
Gass T 5 2 ( ^7 
Book -/)? ? 



The Aztec God 



AND 



OTHER DRAMAS 



BY 



GEORGE LANSING RAYMOND 



FOURTH EDITION REVISED 



G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 

NEW YORK AND LONDON 

;rbe IkntcKerbochci: iprcss 






COPYRIGHT BY 

GEORGE LANSING RAYMOND 
1900 

REVISED EDITION, COPYRIGHT BY 

GEORGE LANSING RAYMOND 
1908 

REVISED EDITION, COPYRIGHT BY 

GEORGE LANSING RAYMOND 
1916 



By 'J rau8t©r 

btP 30 J^b 



o^ 




Made in the United States of America 



CONTENTS. 



The Aztec God i 

Columbus 129 

Cecil the Seer ....... 296 



THE AZTEC GOD. 



INTRODUCTION : PLACE AND TIME. 

The scene of this drama is laid in Mexico near the opening 
of the Fifteenth Century, just when the Aztecs were begin- 
ning to overrun the country, and when, therefore, the peculiar 
forms of their religion may reasonably be supposed to have 
been comparatively unknown to the Tezcucans who, as will 
be shown presently, adhered, in the main, to the more mild 
religious observances of the ancient Toltecs. 

The facts with reference to the Aztec human sacrifices, the 
selection for these of a captive without blemish, the allot- 
ment to him of certain maidens as wives, and the general 
luxury and adoration with which he was surrounded up to 
the time when, surrendering the flowers that crowned his 
head and the lyre that he carried, he ascended the pyramid 
to have his heart torn out of him while still alive, — all these 
facts are sufficiently well known to substantiate the delinea- 
tions of the drama. 

The exact religious conception which underlay these Aztec 
rites is not known. In the circumstances, it has been 
thought justifiable to surround them with a certain atmos- 
phere of spiritual truth— though only in twilight — similar to 
that which is known to have formed the setting of the pagan 
worship of ancient Egypt and Greece. It has been recognized 
that doing this might not only enhance the poetic effective- 
ness of the presentation, but might also aid in imparting to it 
that contemporary import and application which, in every 
worli of art. the intelligent reader ought to feel, even though 



2 THE AZTEC GOD. 

he may not be able, in any wholly satisfactory way, to analyze 
or interpret. 

A few historical quotations may be needed to explain the 
disposition which Haijo and the King are represented as pro- 
posing to make of Waloon. In a note referring to the in- 
mates of the Aztec religious houses, in; Prescott's "Conquest 
of Mexico," vol. I., p. 69, we read that " Tales of scandal 
.. . .■ have been told of the Aztec virgins," etc., and in 
voh I., pp. 110-112, of the same author's "Conquest of 
Peru," a country in which there prevailed a worship of the 
heavenly bodies very similar to that of the Aztecs, we are 
informed, with reference to the " Virgins of the Sun," as 
they were termed, that " they were young maidens, dedicated 
to the service of the deity, who . . . were taken from 
their homes and introduced into convents. . . . From the 
moment they entered the establishment, they were cut of! 
from all connection with the world, even with their own 
family and friends. Yet . . . though Virgins of the Sun, they, 
were brides of the Inca (or king), and, at a marriageable age, 
the most beautiful among them were selected for the honors 
• . . of the royal seraglio . . . The full complement of this 
amounted in time not only to hundreds but to thousands, who 
found accommodations in his different palaces." An estab- 
lished custom like this among the Peruvians certainly seems 
sufficient to justify an illustration of the spirit underlying it 
among a people so much like them in other respects as v.'ere 
the Aztecs. 

A few words may be needed too with reference to the 
range of thought and feeling attributed in the drama to 
Monaska and Kootha. Some may suppose the healthfully 
romantic chastity of the one and the philosophic cynicism of 
the other to be idealizations beyond the possibilities of the 
period. 

With reference to the first of these suppositions it is only 
necessary to say that a very slight investigation of faets 



PLACE AND TIME. 3 

would enable the reader to recognize that Monaska repre- 
sents a type of character by no means uncommon among the 
Indians of our own country to-day, or among other semi- 
civilized people. The elaborated systems of ethics, to which 
the enlightened nations are apt to attribute their virtue, are 
themselves merely developments of natural and normal in- 
stincts of which men, especially young men, are everywhere 
conscious, and by which they are often controlled. If this 
were not so, the ethics of civilized life would be a result with- 
out a cause. 

With reference to the philosophic and religious attitudes of 
mind of Kootha, and of Monaska, too, so far as he is represent- 
ed as indulging in these, something more, perhaps, should be 
said. And first of all, let the reader be reminded that, had this 
drama been written by one who had lived among the Aztecs, 
it would have been impossible for him, however desirous of 
being faithful to facts, looking backward, as he would be 
obliged to do, through the vista of time, not to have his 
whole representation tinged with the results of his experi- 
ences in life, thought and expression through the four hundred 
years intervening. But, besides this, were he a poet, it would 
be impossible for him not to have them tinged specifically with 
the results of his own imagination, inasmuch as the value of 
the contribution of poetry, in all cases, is exactly proportioned 
to the light with which it illumines facts in connection with the 
process of transferring them to the region of fancy. It is 
admitted, therefore, that the characters of this drama are 
presented as they appear through an intervening space of 
four hundred years ; and that, as a consequence, the expres- 
sions used, and in some cases the substance of what is ex- 
pressed, are more or less modern. But just as a magnifying 
glass modifies all the points of interest in an object to which it 
is applied, so it seems permissible at times for imaginative art 
to do — in case, like the glass, it does not change the relative 
proportions of the parts to one another and to the whole. A 



4 THE AZTEC GOD. 

poet, like a painter, has a right to iflcrease the interest and 
beauty of the life that furnishes his model by means of tha 
medium — the modern medium too — through whicn he is sup- 
posed to contemplate it. Otherwise, the subject with which 
he deals could not be treated from a present and poetic 
view-point, and his works would not be worth the ink ex- 
pended on them. All the consideration for truth which it 
seems reasonable to expect of the historic dramatist is 
that, in a medium, the component parts of which are neces- 
sarily made up of the language and methods of thought 
natural to his own time, he should represent, in their relative 
proportions, the particular motives and feelings as well as the 
general atmosphere of thought natural to the conditions ex- 
isting at the time of the events forming the basis of his plot. 

There still remains another supposition to be met. It has 
apparently been granted, thus far, that the range of thought 
and feeling attributed to Monaska and Kootha may be beyond 
the possibilities of the period. But barring the modem 
associations and suggestions, to which reference has already 
been made, it is by no means certain that this need be con- 
ceded. The fathers of the Spanish church, at the time when 
America was discovered, seeing in the distribution of bread 
and wine, confession, penance, monasticism and sacrificial 
ceremonies, as practiced by its aborigines, a resemblance to 
their own religious observances, could attribute this to nothing 
but contrivances of the devil to counterfeit the rites of Chris- 
tianity. But we all know now, or ought to know, that the 
real explanation for resemblances of this kind is to be found 
in the fact that humanity, wherever it exists, is the same ; and 
that a similar stage of its development always tends to forms 
of life, religious as well as civil, of the same general nature. 
This fact, indeed, is the chief warrant for supposing that this 
drama of the Aztecs can have any present interest, or suggest, 
by analogy, any present lesson. But this thought aside, the 
fact being as stated, all that is needed to justify the character- 



PLACE AND TIME. 5 

istics and sentiments of Monaska and Kootha is to show that 
the civilization of the Tezcucans at this period was sufficiently 
highly developed to produce them. To do this is not diffi- 
cult. Of one of the kings of Tezcuco, Nezahualcoyotl, 
who died about 1470 A. D., the same author already quoted 
says in the " Conquest of Mexico," vol. I., pp. 192-196, that 
** He built a temple in the usual pyramidal form, and on the 
summit a tower nine stories high, to represent the nine 
heavens ; a tenth was surmounted by a roof painted black 
and profusely gilded with stars on the outside and incrusted 
with metals and precious stones within. He dedicated this to 
the unknown God, the Cause of causes. . . . No image was 
allowed in the edifice, as unsuited to the invisible God ; and 
the people were expressly prohibited from profaning the altars 
with blood, or any other sacrifices than that of the perfume of 
flowers and sweet-scented gums." He is also represented to 
have said : " Idols of wood and gold can neither see, hear nor 
feel; much less could they make the heavens and the earth 
and man the lord of it. These must be the work of the all- 
powerful, unknown God, Creator of the universe, on whom 
alone I must rely for consolation and support ; " and in one 
of his poems — for many nobles and princes of this people 
were poets — he says : " The great, the wise, the valiant, the 
beautiful — alas! where are they now.? They are all mingled 
with the clod ; and that which has befallen them shall happen 
to us, and to those that come after us. Yet let us take cour- 
age, illustrious nobles and chieftains, true friends and loyal 
subjects, — let us aspire to that heaven where all is eternal, and 
corruption cannot come." Men educated where opinions like 
these prevailed and were expressed, could certainly be capa- 
ble of sentiments of the kind attributed in this drama to 
Monaska and Kootha. 



Each time you try to mold a spirit's life 
With fingers grappling from the fist of force y 
You clutch but at the air, at what is far 
Too fine for force to handle. 

The Aztec God^ /F, /. 

Oh something surely must be ivrong^ 
When that which rules without rules not within. 

Idem. 



CHARACTERS. 



MONASKA. 



KOOTHA 
AND HIS 

Companion. 



Haijo. 
Wapella. 

The King. 
Waloon. 



First 1 
Second I 
Third J 



A young Mexican or Acolhuan warrior of 
noble blood, captured by the Aztecs from 
the Tezcucans, a people who, before suc- 
cumbing to the Aztec invasion, were 
distinguished by their comparatively 
mild religion and manners. 

Tezcucans of high rank and education, 
captured by the Aztecs years before the 
time when the drama is supposed to open, 
and now slaves of the priest, Haijo, and 
attendants at the temple. 

A chief priest of the Aztecs. 

A Tezcucan warrior, captured by the Aztecs 
at the same time as Monaska. 

Sovereign of the Aztecs. 

A Tezcucan maiden of high rank, niece of 
Kootha, captured, when very young, by 
the Aztecs and adopted by Haijo the 
priest. 

{Admirers of Monaska, and assigned 
to him as wives, according to 
the customs of the Aztecs. 



Women, Maidens, Officers, Warriors, Priests, Priest- 
esses, Pages, Attendants, etc. 



PROPERTIES. 



MONASKA. 



KOOTHA 
AND HIS 

Companion. 

Haijo. 

Wapella. 



King. 



Waloon 
and her 
Maid. 
Maidens. 



In Act First, Bow, Arrows, and Club. In 
Act Second, Club. In Acts Third and 
Fourth, Flower-wreathed Head-dress and 
Lyre. 

In Acts First and Fifth, a Spear. 

In Act First, a Spear. 

In Acts First and Fifth, Bow, Arrows, and 

Club. In Act Second, a Club. 
In all the Acts, Belt and Hand Weapons 

appropriate for a king. In Acts Second 

and Fourth, some sort of a Crown. 
In Act First, a Spear. In Act Second, a 

Wreath of Flowers. 

In Second Act, Wreaths of Flowers about 

their heads, shoulders, etc., and also 

carried in their hands. 
Warriors with Bows, Arrows, Spears, etc. 

and all on the stage in the costumes of 

the place and period. 



THE AZTEC GOD. 



ACT FIRST. 

Scene: — A forest. Backing, a tree with a moss- 
covered elevation or bench at its Right. Many 
Entrances at the Right and Left through the 
trees. The darkness of a storm by day, with 
occasional thunder and lightning. Contending 
bands of warriors in flight and pursuit cross 
the stage from Left to Right. 

Enter — Left — Kootha attended by his Companion. 

^[KooTHA (to his Companion). 

Oh, what a whirlwind's wave-lashed sea is 

war! 
Then hate breaks loose to over-flood the world. 
Hurling all love-built order upside down 
Till weal is drowned in darkness of the deep, 
And wreckage rides the crest. — They might 
have known 

^ These brackets — [ and ] — are placed before and after 
passages which, in reading or presentation, may be omit- 
ted without interfering with the unfolding of the plot. 

9 



lO THE AZTEC GOD. 

They would be tricked. War's tactics all are 
acts 

Of treachery — the one sole sphere where he 

Who does the worst thing does the best, here 
faith 

Falls crushed beneath the trampling foot of 
force ; 

And fair means trip, trailed mireward after 
foul.] 

Enter — Right — Officer. 
Officer. What, Kootha, you here? 
KooTHA. Ay. 

Officer. What for? 

Kootha. To see 

The tragedy. 
Officer. Is over now. 

Kootha. The fight?— 

I mean not that; but you have captives. 
Officer. Crowds. 

Kootha. And them I came to see. 
Officer. Yes, you are he 

That waits on them till sacrificed. 
Kootha. I do. 

Officer. And you take pleasure in it ? 
Kootha. So they say. — 

Why ? — You would not ? 
Officer. In part of it I might. — 

For you, too, like an angel, bring to each 

The maiden he is free to love and wed. 



THE AZTEC GOD. II 

KooTHA. And I, too, ride the nightmare, sped 
him when 
His love o'erflows in dreams of Paradise. 
I come to tell him just the way to reach it, 
Describe the scene awaiting on the morrow — 
His own stripped, cringing form — and, over 

there. 
Each man, maid, child in town agog to see him ; 
Then how the priests will throttle, throw him 

down. 
And, while yet living, writhing, yelling, sane. 
Gouge their blunt nails between his reeking 

ribs. 
And, by the roots, tear out his dripping heart. 

[Officer. Ugh ! — I would rather be a soldier. 

KooTHA. What? — 

And miss a spectacle so rare ? — that play 
Of fright and agony, in white and shade 
Breaking in contrast o'er your victim's brow? 
Why, what is life without variety? 

Officer. You see too much of it. 

KooTHA. Oh no! — no more 

Than all men do — perhaps concentered more 
Than hell vouchsafes to others ! That is all.] 

Officer {pointing toward the Left). 
See there — the maids are coming now. 

KooTHA. Of course, 

To snare the captive that your spears have 
spared. 



12 THE AZTEC GOD. 

They know the first with whom they fall in 
love 

Will be the first one whom the priest will call 

The chosen of the gods, and send to — heaven. 

What cares a maid, be he her victim too? 
Officer. You mean her lover. 
KooTHA. Victim. 

[Officer. Humph! I see: 

A soldier's life seems lovelier, then? 
KooTHA. Why not ? — 

A man-foe is a brute, a shark that whacks 

The spirit's prow and whirls it from its course. 

A maid may be a devil, seizing on 

The spirit's helm to turn it where she will. 

Her victim though — he thinks her will is his. 

You never knew a man to dodge the touch 

Of love-like fingers feeling for his heart. 

That heart held once within a grip so gained, 

Will take each wrench that wrings its life- 
blood out 

To be its own pulsation.] 
Officer. I, at least, 

Am not their victim yet, and so I leave. 
Exit — Right — Officer. 
KooTHA {to his Companion). 

No, not their victim; but his captives are; 

And they are our own kin, whom we, forsooth, 

Must fool and lure to slaughter. How I 
longed 



THE AZTEC GOD. 13 

For their success! Yet why? — Am well off 

here; 
And they might not have deem'd us of their 

tribe, — 
So young we were w^hen captured, now so like 
The native. Yet could I but save Waloon, — 
My brother's child, king's daughter too! but 

here 
This Haijo, he who maimed me — made me 

slave, 
Haijo, he trains her like a flowering weed 
To clip and fling up to the royal couch. 
When comes the time her beauty blooms in 

full. 
Poor duped Waloon! — Oh, I can bear my fate! 
But she — to see her grow what Haijo wills. 
Deem nothing true or right in earth or air 
Except what he enjoins I — be so much his 
That even I, who ought, I do not dare 
To let her know the foe we just have fought 
Are our own kinsmen' What can curse one 

worse 
Than force that jails expression, whether 

walled 
In masonry or flesh ! — Though it may be 
Fit training for a life whose brightest end 
Is death. If all men die alone, may be 
They ought to learn, ere death, to live alone. 
Enter — Left — Several Women. 



14 THE AZTEC GOD. 

First Woman. Aha, you think so, do you, 
Kootha ? 

KOOTHA. You 

Have come to make a lonely lot seem bliss? 
What business brings you here? 

(gesturing to make them retire.) 
Second Woman {advancing in a supplicating 

way). We came to pray 

Kootha. Oh, yes, I know, j^ou always come to 
prey. 
So do the buzzards, but we drive them ba.ck. 

Second Woman. We seek 

Kootha. Why say not lose? — You hope to lose 

Your hearts in this place. 
First Woman {sarcastically). 

Not in this place, Kootha. 
It must be further on. {She tries to pass him.) 
Kootha {preventing her). No, no, stay back. 
First Woman. Stay back? — Stay back your- 
self. Are 3^ou the one 
Commanding here — a slave of priests like 

you? 
What use have priests upon a battle-field? 
Kootha. To save souls from perdition — am 
between 
The men and you. 
First Woman. The fight is over. 

Kootha. Then 

Do let the warriors have a little rest. 



THE AZTEC GOD. 15 

Why break their peace, before you get them 

home? 
[First Woman. No fear for your peace! You 
may stay alone! 
There are those, though, who want us. 
KooTHA. There are men 

Who lose their senses. I have heard of those 
With ears too dull to hear a bat when squeal- 
ing. 
And flesh too tough to feel a flea when sting- 
ing. 
Second Woman {to First Woman). 

Why stand and talk ? We have a right to see 
The captives. Kootha knows it too. 

{To Kootha). Stand back! 
{To First Woman). 
Go forward! 
Kootha. Nay, leave forwardness to men. 

Have backwardness. It best becomes a 
woman.] 
{An arrow, coming from the right, falls upon the 
stage. Kootha picks it up.) 
See there — an arrow ! The\^ are fighting still. 
You may get more of these through your own 

hearts 
Than even you could dream to send through 
others'. 
Women. Oh! oh! 

Exeunt — Left — the Women in fright. 



I6 THE AZTEC GOD. 

KoOTHA {looking after them, and then toward the 
right). The fight and flight not over? — 
Humph ! 
Exit — Left — KooTHA and his Companion. 
{After a little, amid thunder and lightning), 
Enter — Right Rear — Wapella. 
E7iter — Right Front — Monaska. 
Wapella. That you, Monaska? 
Monaska. Yes, and you? 

Wapella. Wapella. 

Monaska. What man can fight both earth and 

heaven ? 
Wapella. Some fiend 

Is raining down these fiery storm-bolts. 
Monaska. Yes, 

We meet the foe, and in their track, as if 
Out-cowarding the just-caught cuttle-fish. 
This gloom exudes upon the flooding light. 
Wapella. We might have scaled their hill, 

but not these heavens. 
Monaska. We just had drawn our bows, each 
arrow aimed 
To wedge eternal stillness in between 
Unhinging joints of some affrighted heart, 
When down upon us burst that thunder- 
flash. 
The shock, so sudden, glanced the arrows up 
As if to shoot them in the face of gods 
Asail the clouds in yon black gulf. It gave 



THE AZTEC GOD. 17 

Their men their chance. With one wild yell 

and bound 
They closed like smoke about the lightning's 

fire; 
And, all with darts whirled on like sparks 

before 
A flame that followed, they came roaring on 
To fill the gaps their shots had made. [Oh, 

hell! 
Not one of us but saw, mount fiercely up 
The dying body of some fallen friend, 
What seemed wild fiends. 
Wapella. How know you but they were? — 
Grim phantom-spirits of the earth and air — 
The same that now pursue us? — And from 

them 
You fled? 
MoNASKA. Fled? — Never! No, with them I 
fought. 
Till all I fought for but myself were not. 
Wapella. Hush ! They w^ill find us. 
MoNASKA. Ay, they will — too soon. 

Each fearful time this lid of heaven is lifted, 
The rays pour in and focus here on us. 
They axle here the foes' near wheeling lines, 
Ay, draw them like a whirlpool to its vortex. 
Wapella. This tree will shield us. 
{The two move toward a tree at the Back Centre 
with a moss-covered bench at the Right of it.) 



I8 THE AZTEC GOD. 

MoNASKA. There is not a tree 

Or leaf, or trunk, but what, to point us out, 
These fiery fingers of the storm would dash 
Aside to ashes — fume — thin air.] 
Wapella {leading Monaska toward the moss- 
covered bench, and sitting down, then 
rising). We here 

Are hid as could be hoped for. 
Monaska. I hope not 

For anything. Sweet hope is a bird of light. 
The pulsing touch of whose aspiring wing 
Thrills to new life the very air one breathes. 
In gloom like ours the trembling heart but 

leaps 
To dodge the whir of some blind bat of fear. 
Wapella {looking toward the Left). 

Hark! There seems human rhythm in this 

hell. 
What hot pursuit is it comes burning through 
These crackling branches? 

( Vivid lightning.) 
Monaska {pointing toward the Left). 

Did you see it? 
Wapella. No. 

But when I do {drawing his how.) 

Monaska {placing his hand on the bow). 

Hold! — Could one ever see 
An angel, hers would be a form like that. 
Wapella. An angel? — fiend! 



THE AZTEC GOD. 19 

MoNASKA. Right! Only fools have faith 

In forms they have not wit to find unfrocked. 
Not sages even see the spirit through them. 
We flee. 
Wapella {placing his hand on his hip, and sink- 
ing down). I cannot. 
MoNASKA. What? — Are wounded? 

Wapella. Yes. 

MoNASKA {sitting on the moss-covered seat beside 

him). Then I stay too. 
Wapella. Nay, go. 

MoNASKA {lying down on the moss-covered eleva- 
tion). Not I. — No man 
Can wish us ill, the while our bodies bow 
To do his wishes. Let us yield our wills 
To save our lives, and feign that we are dead. 
Enter — Left — Waloon and a Maid. 

Wapella. Sh — sh 

Waloon {to the Maid). 

The foe are fled. Our homes are safe; 

{Lightning. She sees Monaska and Wapella.) 

Why, who are they? — How beautiful! What 

flowers 
To bloom amid the desert of the storm ! 
What glow of vigor in their fair, round limbs, 
Ay, how their colors warm this cold-hued air ! — 
Can they be wounded? — dead? — Oh, cruel 

man, 
When spirits of the sunlight guise in flesL 



20 THE AZTEC GOD. 

And fringe the halo of the sunshine round 

them, 
Have we so much to cheer us on the earth, 
We can afford destruction to the frames 
That form fit settings of a light so dear? — 

Nay, I 

{She approaclies, bends, and studies them.) 

They both are breathing still ! — But look 

{Lightning.) 
This garb? — Why, they will kill us yet un- 
less 

{She lifts a spear that she holds in her hand, then 

drops it.) 

[Who made me heaven's avenging messenger? 

Or bade me cull for those high gardeners there 

What grow in nights of earth to greet their 

dawn ? 
I should not know them foes but for their 

guise. 
And what is all their alien flesh but guise 
A little nearer to their souls? It gone, 
What would they be but spirits, freed from 

space, — 
From all the need of trampling others down 
To find a place to stand in for themselves? — 
The two here must be wounded. — Say, good 
friends — ] 

{They start up. She draws hack.) 
Exit — Left — the AIaid as if frightened. 



THE AZTEC GOD. 21 

Wait, wait! — A maid like me would do no 
harm. — 

{As they sit still and look at her.) 
You — you are wounded? 
MoNASKA. Not to death. — And you? — 

Why do you stand there, and not hurl the 

dart? 
It would be sweet, if when one came to die. 
His last sigh could breathe forth toward one 
like you. 
Waloox. I kill you?— What? 
MoNASKA. And why, pray, should you not? 
Waloon. I am a woman! 
{The storm ceases; ajtdfrom this time on the forest 

grows gradually brighter.) 
MoNASKA. And a woman's aim 

Knows how to reach the heart. We should 

escape 
The bungling work of men. 

{opening his breast.) 

My heart — take aim — 
Is open to you. Oh, how it will thrill 
To feel it gets what you would giye ! 
Waloon. No, no; 

You seem too strong and fair for earth to lose. 
Some one, with you, would find it full of light. 
jMonaska. But we are foes. 
Waloon. To me you seem like friends. 

MoNASKA. But to your brothers? 



22 THE AZTEC GOD. 

Waloon. There are those they spare. 

MoNASKA. At your wish ? 
Waloon. I can plead. 

MoNASKA. From such lips pleas, 

Like fragrance from the flowers upon a shrine, 
Might bring an answer. I will trust in you. 
(MoNASKA and Wapella begin to rise.) 
Enter — Left — Hatjo and Kootha with his Com- 
panion . 
Waloon. Nay, nay, lie still. Wait, till I 

speak to them. 
{referring to Haijo and Kootha, and moving 
toward them and addressing them.) 
Here lie some wounded warriors. 
Kootha. Foes? 

Vv^aloon. They are. 

Kootha. I hope then you have cured them of 

their wounds! 
Waloon. How so? 
Kootha {lifting his spear). 

How so ? — There is but one sure cure. — 
Ope wide the casket that the world has bruised 
And let the unbruised soul fly out of it. 
{makes as if he would move toward Monaska.) 
Waloon {lifting her hands, and moving forward 
as if to shield Monaska). 
No, no; not that; no! — They are beautiful. 
Kootha. Then send them upward while they 
are so. Why 



THE AZTEC GOD. 23 

Outlive the happy moment for one's death ! 

A body maimed may mold a spirit maimed. 

Waloon. Their wounds are not so bad as that. 

KooTHA. Or good. 

(Waloon looks at him in a puzzled way.) 

I mean it — good. I mean it. Let me see 

them. 

(Waloon gestures toward them and looks toward 

Haijo.) 
[Haijo {to Waloon, as he looks toward the 
prisoners) . 
You call them beautiful? When you have 

seen 
As much of men as I, you will think more 
Of greater spirits with their lives enshrined 
In mountain, valley, forest, bush, and flower 
Than of these little spirits framed in flesh. 
Waloon. A great priest, you, and I a little 

maid. 
Haijo. And for our little maidens men like 
these 
Are sent at times on little missions to us.] 
KooTHA {waving his spear). 
Sire, pin them down where they shall kneel 

before us 
And keep on kneeling till their life is through. 
Haijo. No, no! — but I wait here, and you go 
back 
And tell them at the temple why I do so. 



24 THE AZTEC GOD. 

KooTHA {to his Companion as he moves toward 
the left). 

Oh, heaven, I thought to help them! — but 

too late ! 
Exit — Left — KooTHA and his Companion. 
Haijo {to Waloon). 

You wish to save them, eh? — One way is 

Waloon {eagerly). What? 

Haijo. Why, make the king adopt them. 
This, you know, 
Is often done. Then they will be our own; 
As much so as if born here. Can you think 
Of anything he would not do for you? — 
The trouble is, I hear, that there are things 
You would not do for him, ha, ha, ha, ha! 
Oh, no offense! You know you are my 

ward. 
For one, I ward you from his majesty. 
Suppose you go, and tell your tale to him — 
The beauty of the prisoners, and your wish. 
I think that he would grant it. 
Waloon. Free them wholly? 

Haijo. Why, you can ask and learn. Should 
he refuse, 
They would be no more sure to die than now. 
(Haijo waves his hand.) 
Enter — from both Right and Left — Guards with 
spears, and stand watching Monaska and 
Wapella. 



THE AZTEC GOD. 25 

Waloon. First I will tell them why I go away — 

And you will guard them here? 
Haijo. As if the king 

Himself had ordered it. 
{to a Chief of the Guards as Waloon walks to- 
ward MoNASKA and Wapella who rise 
to receive her) The girl is right. 
She knows what beauty is — just what we need ! 
And not another fair-formed captive left us ! 
The king will save them, not a doubt of 

that. 
We never found a pair of fairer gods. 
Waloon {to Monaska.) 

I go to ask our king here to adopt you. 

{pointing to Haijo) 
This guardian of all our sacred things 
Will guard you sacredly till I return. 
Haijo {to Monaska and Wapella). 

Unless you m.ean to fly. Try that ; no more 
Could you escape our warriors' darts, than 

dodge 
The shadows of the trees through which you 
flew. 

Exit — Left — Waloon. 
Monaska {to Haijo). 

You seem a prophet, sire? 
Haijo. They hold me such. 

Monaska (holding out his hand). 
And you could read my fate? 



26 THE AZTEC GOD. 

Haijo. Not difficult. 

{plucking a twig from a tree) 
The tree's full growth is here, could one unfold 

it. 
Your future is the fruit of present dreams, 
The lure that leads the deepest wish within 

you, 
The goal that lights the farthest path of hope. 
{taking MoNASKA by the hand, then dropping it) 
A touch that feels the start can point the 
finish. 
MoNASKA. You think so? 

Haijo. There is nothing stops the flow 

Of thought betwixt my fingers and my brain, 
Betwixt 3^our fingers and your brain; not 
so? — 
{takifig him by the hand again) 
Now join these — what cuts off your brain 
from mine? 
MoNASKA. Our wills. 

Haijo. Yet if I yield my will to yours 

MoNASKA. But can you? 

Haijo. And if not, what boots the priest 

His years of fasting and of discipline? — 
Besides, all lives are much alike. 
MoNASKA. They are? — 

[How so? 
Haijo. All thorns or roses, if you please, 

Grown on the self -same bush. 



THE AZTEC GOD. 27 

MoNASKA. Do all lives grow- 

Both thorns and roses? 
Haijo. Yes; we show the thorns 

To those who try to pluck us for them- 
selves ; 
The roses to the ones that let us be. 
MoNASKA. And so you think all lives alike? 
Haijo. Allied.] 

All lives are summers, veiled at either end 
In shadows of the spring and autumn storms. 
We pass from tears of birth to burial; 
And in the brief, bright interval between 
There comes anon the fevered flush of life, 
Then paleness, then the fevered flush of 

death. 
Men leap and laugh, and then lie back and 

cough. 
Both but hysterical, betwixt the tw^o, 
Warring for power that more of war must 

keep, 
Pushing for place that prisons those w^ho seize 

it, 
Kneeling for love to tramp on when they 

get it. 
Their little rest is large-brought weariness. 
And what they wish for most is mainly 
death. 
MoNASKA. A cheerful view! 
Haijo. It was not volunteered. 



28 THE AZTEC GOD. 

[MoNASKA. My fate seems dark then? 
Haijo. Brilliant. 

MoNASKA. Brilliant? 

Haijo. Yes, 

A'loNASKA. A fire is brilliant, yet it burns 

us up. 
Haijo. In time. 

MoNASKA. Yet all life is a thing of time. 

Haijo. You hunger for excitement, man. You 

hail 
The trump of war, the tramp of onset, all 
That sweeps 3^ou on where drafts of life and 

love 
Fan up the flames that flicker in the breast 
And set the whole form's trembling veins 

aglow. 
MoNASKA. You read me well. 
Haijo. Suppose this heart a toy 

Wound up to run through just so many 

ticks 

MoNASKA. I see, you mean a fast life is a short 

life. 
Haijo. The fleetest foot is first beside the goal. 
MoNASKA. But if the goal be high as well as 

far 

Haijo. The bird of fleetest wing may fly the 

highest. 
MoNASKA. It may! — A chance that I could 

risk! — If not, 



THE AZTEC GOD. 29 

More blest the short-lived moths that fly to 
flame 

Straight through a pathway lit by coming 
light 

Than long-lived worms that crawl through 
endless mire. 
Haijo. Yours will be lit by coming light. 
MoNASKA. And I,] 

I shall not lose my life? 
Haijo. In every life, 

The first and final acts are tragedy. 

Monaska. But ere the final act ? 

Haijo. The whole you wish 

Will come. 
Monaska. All ? 
Haijo. All. 

Monaska. But I am not unselfish. 

Haijo. You need not be — where all will rush 

to serve you. 
Monaska. And I am vain. 
Haijo. None will be clothed more richly. 
Monaska. And I have tastes. 
Haijo. Each meal will be a feast. 

Monaska. I would not slave it to these lower 
aims. 

I have ambition. 
Haijo. None will rank above you. 

Monaska. None? 
Haijo. I have said it — none. 



30 THE AZTEC GOD. 

MoNASKA. That cannot be. 

My birth 

Haijo. Who knows the place that he was born 

To fill? 
MoNASKA. High aspirations thrill my soul. 
Haijo. Have higher still. You will be like a 
god. 
{aside, to the Chief of the Guards.) 
Now will I see if he divine my meaning. 
MoNASKA. It may be when I die. 
Haijo {aside to the Chief again) . 
Is not divined; 
Or, if it be, in but a slight degree. 

{to MONASKA.) 

No; you mistook my thought. I spoke of 
earth. 

MoNASKA. Of earth? — You know, sire, I can 
tell it you — 
You know about the weaknesses of youth? 

Haijo. Yes, you can tell me all. 

MoNASKA. I am not one 

Has lived or worked with other men. My soul 
Has dwelt alone, and sails the waves of life 
Like some stray oil-drop lost upon the sea, 
Refusing still, however wildly tossing, 
To lose or fuse itself in things about it. 
I have so craved a mate! but, whoso came, 
The spirit that is in me would deny 
My clasping to a heart that might not beat 



THE AZTEC GOD. 3 1 

In time to pulses of another's purpose. 

So what I would caress, I dared not touch, 

For fear the rhythm throbbing in my veins 

Would prove discordant and reveal us foes. 

Haijo. Ah! love you wish? 

MoNASKA. Ay, sire, I would be loved. 

Haijo. You think that strange at your age, 

strange ? 
MoNASKA. Not strange the w^ish — but could it 

be fulfilled 

Haijo. I said it should be. You shall be so 
loved 
That you will yearn for rivals more than see 
them. 
[MoNASKA. Will yearn — but how can this be 

true? You jest. 
Haijo. Is it my face or robe you deem a jester's ? 
MoNASKA. You mean it ? 

Haijo. It is in your hand, your face. 

I told you I had had experience. 
Why do you doubt? 
MoNASKA. Because life never brought 

Aught like it. 
Haijo. Life brings day as well as night. 

When day, the wise will use the sunshine.] 
MoNASKA {looking at Wapella, who has been 
watching them eagerly, and now rises). 

Come 
And tell his fortune too. 



32 THE AZTEC GOD, 

Wapella. Yes, mine. 

Enter — Left — Waloon and the King. 
Haijo. The King. 

{All how. The King speaks aside to Haijo.) 

The King desires that you retire, you three. 
{motioningto Monaska, Wapella, and Waloon.) 
Exeunt — Right — Monaska, Wapella, and Wa- 
loon, accompanied hy some of the Guards. 
King {to Haijo.) What think you? 
Haijo. Just what she has told you, sire. 

No doubt, about the beauty of the men. 
King. Nor of her love? 

Haijo. It seems to augur well. 

King. I feel not sure about your method. 
Haijo. No?— 

In lands like ours, a land controlled by law, 

Illegal force will rouse the people's wrath. 

But let her love the one we make a god, 

And wed his ghost, and dwell within the 
temple ; 

There he who is the head of our religion 

Can rightly represent the god, — not so ? 
King. I see — a portion of the heaven of which 

The priesthood holds the key, is on the earth. 
Haijo {suddenly turning the subject). 

Sire, we must have some foe to sacrifice. 

For this year 

King. You will furnish one insured 

To break this maiden's heart. 



THE AZTEC GOD. 33 

Haito. a colt once broke 

Drives easily. 
King. Let me not doubt again 

What power incarnates Providence on earth. 
Lead out this coming god. 
Haijo {looking toward the Right). 

Waloon, the King 
Desires to see the prisoners. 
'Enter — Right — Waloon, Monaska, Wapella, 

and Guards. 
King {to Haijo, as he looks at Monaska). 

Yes, yes, 
He is a fine one, no mistake ! Poor girl ! — 
But what were life without its discipline? 
And what are kings and priests for but to give it ? 
No fetes are feasts with every course alike; 
And all fare better who begin with bitters. 

{to Monaska and Wapella.) 
Young men, your warriors came a long, hard 

way 
To fight with us. They should have stayed 
at home. 
Monaska. Our king, sire, sent them forth. 
King. Good ! We shall keep 

Their flesh to fertilize our fields, and see 
That he has less to send the next time. Ha ! 
{The Guards, at a sign from the King, draw 
their hows on Monaska and Wapella.) 
Waloon, stand back, there, from the prisoners. 



34 THE AZTEC GOD. 

Waloon {to the King). 

Ah, but you will not kill them, will you, sire? 
King. Why not? — They would kill us. We 
only do 
What they would do. 
MoNASKA {aiming his bow). 

Perhaps, when this has gone 

Through you, and through your pals too 

Waloon {hurrying between the King and Mon- 
ASKA, and speaking to Monaska). Wait. 
MoNASKA {bowing to Waloon). For you. 

Waloon {to the King). 

Ah, sire, was it for this I urged them not 
To fly from here? — You surely will adopt 
them? 
King. And you would save my life and save 
his too? {To Monaska.) 
We both owe something to her love, you see. 
Monaska {to the King) . 

I read my pardon in your own face now. 
King. I feel no pity, and no love for you. 
If you are saved here, she alone has done it. 
Thank her. 
Monaska {kneeling to her). 

I will, as I would thank an angel. 
King {to Haijo, aside). 

You see — we made no promises. Keep watch 
And never let them be alone together. 
Curtain. 



ACT SECOND. 

Scene : — A walled open space within an Aztec fort. 
Backing at the Right is a closed gate guarded by 
Spearmen, and at the Left a pyramid-shaped 
structure such as formed an Aztec shrine. On 
the lower steps of this structure, forming a sort 
of throne for the King, are rugs, etc. On the 
Right Side of the Space are trees, on its Left 
Side, near the rear are curtains before a building 
evidently of the nature of a temple. Entrances: 
several at the Right through the trees; at the Right 
Center through the Gateway; at the Left Front 
to one side of the Temple; at the Left farther 
back, through curtains into the Temple; at the 
Left Rear between the Temple and the Pyramid. 
The Curtain rises on the gray light of dawn. 
Guards are at the gates, prisoners grouped 
about the space. Monaska and Wapella 
are near the Left Front. 

Wapella. I do not understand this. 

Monaska. No; but half 

The interest of life is in its puzzles. 

Wapella. I thought they set us free. 
35 



36 THE AZTEC GOD. 

MoNASKA. I often think 

Some one is just about to set me free. 
I never found him yet. 
Wapella. We fare no better 

Than these, our fellow-prisoners. 
MoNASKA. That seems 

A lesson to our self-conceit. The wise 
Are grateful to their teachers. 
Wapella. You are sanguine. 

MoNASKA. Some men are born with light, 
aspiring blood 
That, bounding brainward, keeps the whole 
frame glowing. 
Wapella {pointing to the other prisoners) . 

These men expect us to be put to death. 
MoNASKA. And some are born with heavy, 
sluggish blood, 
That will not leave the heart but keeps it 
weighted. 
Wapella. They sa}^ they know the customs 

of the place. 
MoNASKA. We know its characters — the maid, 

priest, king 

Wapella. They say that captives here are 

sacrificed. 
MoNASKA. Not those the king himself has 

once adopted. 
Wapella. Then say why we are prisoned in a 
temple. 



THE AZTEC GOD. 37 

MoNASKA. Humph! your conundrum! Have 

not thought of it. 
Wapella. No; nor of anything outside the 
maid 
You have enshrined there in 3^our heart. 
MoNASKA. With reason! 

Wapella. Would reason drop the curtain of 
the eye, 
And dwell in darkness, and be proud of it? 
Monaska, you are dreaming. You must wake 
And join us in our effort to escape. 
Moxaska. You make it for yourselves. Why 

wait for me? 
Wapella. Why? — You outrank us. 
Monaska. There are no ranks here. 

Wapella. A leader, if he lead not, shames his 
birthright. 
Besides, we two have weapons left with us. 
You keep your club; I mine. The rest have 

none. 
Perhaps they m.erely overlooked our arms. 
And, when the morning comes, will take them 

from us. 
Before that, when the other guards withdraw, 
As they do always, when the signal sounds, 

{pointing toward the gate) 
We can attack the two they leave behind. 
Each kill his man, and, while the rest break 
down 



38 THE AZTEC GOD. 

The gate behind, can all of us rush out, 
O'ertake our friends and fly with them for 
home. 
MoNASKA. The home in which the spider traps 

the fly! 
Wapella. No soldiers watch that side the gate. 
MoNASKA. And we, 

To show our gratitude for being saved, 
Will leave two prostrate, murdered forms 

behind 
To do obeisance for us ! 
[Wapella. Rather than 

Harm them, we all here should be murdered, 
eh? 
MoNASKA. If there were fear of that, the maid 
would never 
Have pleaded for us.] 
Wapella. They are all our foes. 

Can you a moment balance them against 
Your time-tried friends? 

Exeunt — Left — all the Guards hut two, 
who stand each side the gate. 

Look ! Now the guards have left. 
Monaska, come — I said you would. — They 
wait {pointing to other Prisoners). 
Monaska. You seem suspicious. 
Wapella {excitedly). Dare you tackle them? 
Monaska {angrily) . 

Talk not of daring! I will tackle you. 



THE AZTEC GOD. 39 

Wapella {excited, hut trying to control himself) . 
Forgive me — Why, you know I am your 

friend. 
We all are friends. Monaska, will you join 
us? 
Monaska. Turn traitor to the ones that 

saved us? — No. 
Wapella. But to your own land and your 

landsmen, yes. 
Monaska {drawing his club, and springing 
toward Wapella) . 

That you must prove, or • 

(Wapella draws his club and defends himself.) 
Guard {at the gate). Hold! 

Enter — Left — other Guards ajtd Officer. 
They separate, with spears, Monaska 
and Wapella. 
Wapella {to Monaska). 

Now you have proved it. 
Officer {to Monaska and Wapella). 

Your clubs. 
Monaska. We were adopted. We are free. 
Officer {as he motions to the Guards to take 
the clubs away from the two prisoners) . 
You will not need these, then, to guard your- 
selves. 

{The Guards take the clubs.) 
Enter — through the curtains at the Left — • 
Haijo, Kootha and his Companion. 



40 THE AZTEC GOD. 

(Hat JO ascends the steps of the pyra- 
mid near the rugs. In his hand is a 
parchmejit.) 
Officer {to Monaska, Wapella and other 
prisoners) . 
Stand back, and hear the royal proclamation. 
Hai JO {reading) . 

Know, all ye captives, who have proved your 

worth 
By warding off when in the brunt of war 
The stroke aimed well to fell you , know to-day 
This temple celebrates its yearly fete; 
And hither wend the maidens of the realm. 
Commend yourselves to them, and woman's 

love, 
Like that which gave our land its natural sons, 
Will make you sons of its adoption, sons 
And lovers, fit to claim their heart's devotion. 
For why should brave springs flow to waste, 

and not 
Augment the channels of the nation's Hfe? — 
Go seek your cells, make ready, and come 

forth. 
And know the highest honors wait for him 
Whose charms prove greatest for the greatest 
number. 
Monaska {to Wapella) . 

There, there. I told you so. 
Wapella. Well, we shall see 



THE AZTEC GOD. 4I 

MoNASKA. That I shall wed the woman of my 

choice. 
Exeunt — Right — all the Prisoners except Wap- 

ELLA. 

KooTHA {to his Companion and looking toward 
Monaska) . 
What fools we are when we would read 

ourselves. 
He thinks he craves the honors promised him 
Whose charms prove greatest for the greatest 

number. 
Alas, the one thing that his nature craves, 
Is not a number. 
Exeunt — Right — Wapella, followed by some of 

the Guards. 
(KooTHA continues to talk to his Companion.) 
Ah! That proclamation 
Was worthy of the priest that penned it. 
Companion. Why? 

KooTHA. Must be received with faith to seem 
a blessing; 
And holds a promise that, whatever come, 
Will stand. 
Companion. And be fulfilled. 
KooTHA. Oh, yes — in form! 

But nothing like a priest's grip on a form 
To squeeze the spirit out of it. 

Enter — Left — Waloon. 
Companion. In that 



42 THE AZTEC GOD. 

The promise pairs with life; for nothing 

earthly 
Fulfills a promise just as it was given. 
KooTHA. Ay, while the eyes of hope are look- 
ing up, 
The devil trips the feet. But why should gods 
Make priests play devil? 
[Companion {noticing Haijo advancing). 

Hold; you may play die, 
And go to him. 
KooTHA {looking at Haijo) . 

Oh, no, no! After death 
I think I shall be freed from following him.] 
{The day grows gradually brighter.) 
Exit — Left — through the curtai7is — Kootha and 

his Companion. 
Waloon {to Haijo). 

Can it be true? 
Haijo What true? 

Waloon. Why, that the king 

Will put Monaska to the maidens' test? 
Haijo. Of course. 
Waloon. Of course? 

Haijo. Why not? 

Waloon. Because the king 

Adopted him. 
Haijo. But you would not deprive 

The captive of his rights? 
Waloon. His rights? 



THE AZTEC GOD, 43 

Haijo. What right 

Can any man have grander than to be 
A god? 

[Waloon. a few- weeks' god? 

Haijo. Why, yes. You know 

The joy of life is in its quahty, 
Not quantity. A heaven on earth — what is it 
But having what one wishes? 

Waloon. This is cruel. 

Haijo. There are a score or more of prisoners. 
We need a man whose bearing can supply 
Attractions that will draw the souls of all 
Toward him and toward the god he represents. 
The surest way of choosing such a man 
Is this one which the royal will decrees. 

Waloon. You know his beauty. They would 
all choose him. 

Haijo. Oh, no no; only some! — and if they all 
did. 
Would it be just in us to fail for this 
To let him be the chosen of the gods? 

Waloon. No, — of the maidens. 

Haijo. Of the maidens' love. 

And what than woman's love is more like 
gods'? 

Waloon. Oh, this is fearful, fearful! Think of 
me. 

Haijo. Of you?] 

Waloon. I love him. 



44 THE AZTEC GOD. 

Haijo. Then, if he should be 

The chosen of the gods, this would confirm 
Your choice, and thus exalt both him and you. 

[ Waloon. But then he would belong — oh, not 
to me! 
But to the world, and to the world of women. 

Haijo. The thought of that is not inspiring? 

Waloon. No. 

And soon he would be gone 

Haijo. Among the gods.] 

Waloon. I would not have him there. I wish 
him here. 

Haijo. If earth held all our souls could wish, 
no soul 
Could ever wish for heaven. 

Waloon. My heaven holds love. 

And what thrives there thrives here, and has a 

right 
To all things men can rightly let it have. 

[Haijo. Save when the gods 

Waloon. The gods I cannot see: 

In front of me what I see is a man. 

Haijo. Then pray the gods to give you light. 

Waloon. How can 

I pray the gods to give me light, if those 
That have been sent to lead me where it shines 
Forever stand betwixt my soul and it?] 
Enter — Left Rear— the King with Attendants. 

Waloon {to the King). 



THE AZTEC GOD. 45 

Great sire, they plan to do a great wrong here. 
King. How so? It shall be righted. 
Haijo {to the King). She would keep 

Monaska from the test that makes him god. 
King. Oh — but — he has a right to it. 
Waloon. Yet, sire, 

A right that wrongs your kindly pardoning 
him. 
King. Why no, no! all our captives have that 

right. 
Waloon. But, sire, he, he would be the choice 

of all. 
King. So much more reason he should have his 

chance. 
Waloon. But I — I — love him. 
Haijo. If you loved him truly, 

You scarce would dare to stand between him, 

then, 
And that which lifts him to the gods. 
[Waloon. You know 

I pleaded for his life. 

{turning toward the King.) 

You gave it him. 
Now all of you seem plotting for his death. 
Haijo. Monaska had his choice. 
Waloon. His choice? 

Haijo. Why, yes. 

Waloon. When was it? 
Haijo. In the woods. " More blest, " he cried, 



46 THE AZTEC GOD. 

"More blest the short-lived moths that fly to 

flame 
Straight through a pathway lit by coming 

light 
Than long-lived worms that crawl through 

endless mire."] 
{The King nods approvingly, and moves on with 
Attendants toward the pyramid.) 
Waloon {to Haijo). 
You told him all? 
Haijo. Oh, no, not all. Why should I? 

Waloon. Then I will tell him. 
Haijo. When the priests enjoin it. 

Till then, the only lips that can reveal 
One temple-secret speak from realms of 

death. 
And if as yet they have not entered these, 
It will become our duty to transfer them. 
Waloon {surprised) . 

I cannot speak to him? 
Haijo. Speak all you wish. 

But if he learn too much, he cannot hide it. 
Waloon. Oh, cruel! I may speak — show all 
I wish — 
Except what fills the fount from which it 

springs. 
Alas, what pain — what pain alone — can keep 
The ever-swelling, surging, flood within? — 
Go bid the lake sleep on unheard, unseen. 



THE AZTEC GOD. 47 

Whose tribute-streams are dashed from cata- 
racts, 
Or waves are whirled by winds up toward the 

clouds 

Haijo. Ah, has it gone so far? 
Waloon. Oh, sire, too oft, 

A mood but half expressed is all distressed. 
What now is left my soul ! 
Haijo. One course is left. 

The surest way to keep from feeling things 
Is not to touch them. 
Waloon. What were best for me, 

Is not the question. I would ward from him 
The fatal blight that follows woman's love. 
Accursed love, that makes the brightest eye 
A sunglass through which heaven would wilt 

the soul, 
And by the very pleasure beauty gives 
Mete out the measure of impending doom. 
Haijo. What will you do then? 
Waloon. Save him if I can. 

(Blast of trumpets, followed by music. The 
King and Attendants arrange them- 
selves on the rugs at the base of the pyra- 
mid. The gate backing at the Right 
Center is thrown open.) 
Exit — Right — very hastily, Waloon. 
Haijo {to the King). 

Poor fool ! She does not know the surest way 



48 THE AZTEC GOD. 

To guard her lover from the love of all 

Is letting him alone. About the lips 

Found sweet by merely one, all swarm like 

bees. 
But let that one forsake him all forsake him. 
Enter — through the Gate hacking at the 
Right Center — Procession of Maidens 
and others, hearing hajiners and wreaths 
and decorated with flowers. All sing 
the following: 

Where dwell the gods? 
Where dwell the gods? 
Oh, dwell they in the sky? 
Or come they near in gloom or gleam 
Of earth or air or wood or stream? — 

Oh, yes, the gods are all on high; 
But, robed in all that teem or seem 
Where eye can spy or fancy fly, 
The gods are always nigh. 

How speak the gods? 
How speak the gods? 
In thunder from the sky? 
In storms that o'er the cloud-banks pour, 
Or dash in waves along the shore? — 
Oh, yes, the gods are all on high; 
But not alone in rush and roar. 

Wherever breeze or breath can sigh 
The gods are always nigh. 

How touch the gods? 
How touch the gods? 
Oh, reach they from the sky 



THE AZTEC GOD. 49 

Wherever airy fingers brush 

The leaves that throb, the cheeks that flush? — 

Oh, yes, the gods are all on high ; 
But in the thrills that fill the hush 

When naught without is passing by, 
The gods are always nigh. 

Where look the gods? 
Where look the gods? 
In glances from the sky 
Down through the lightning's death-dealt blaze, 
Or thrilling through the starry rays? — 

Oh, yes, the gods are all on high; 
But in the looks that on us gaze 
From out the love-lit human eye 
The gods are always nigh. 

{While singing, the Maidens arrange 
themselves in line from Front to Rear 
at the Left.) 
King {looking toward the Right). 

And now bring forth the prisoners. 
Officer {standing near the Right.) They come. 
King {gesturing with his right hand) . 
Arrange them there in line. 

Enter — Right — Captives, and are marched 
and formed in a line at the Right 
between the gateway and the Front 
of the stage. Monaska e^iters lasty 
and stands nearest the Right Front. 
Enter — at the Right Front — Waloon, and stands 
at the Right of Monaska. 



50 THE AZTEC GOD. 

King. Now shall the eyes 

Of gods above look through the brightest eyes 
Whose glances light the earth; and whom 

those eyes 
Adore the most, him too shall all adore. 

(The King, looking at the Captives, converses 
with his Attendants.) 

{The Maidens look at the Captives, especially 

at those nearest the gateway, and converse together.) 

Waloon {to Monaska, in a half whisper, and not 
observed by others except him). 
Monaska. 

Monaska. What? 

Waloon. Look this way. 

Monaska. Could I else? — • 

{gesturing and looking toward the Maidens.) 
Yet must I seek the favor of these maids. 

Waloon. Is not the favor of one maid enough? 

Monaska. Enough and more — yet here 

Waloon. Confide in me. 

Monaska. Yes, wholly. 

Waloon. Then be wholly what I wish. 

Monaska. Be what? 

Waloon. One who will not attract attention. 

Monaska. Why, then 

Waloon. You might seem wholly mine. 

Monaska {looking toward the other Maidens). 

I see — 
brightest hour of all my life! — I see 



THE AZTEC GOD. 51 

You love — and love, if shorn of jealousy, 
Drops half its charms, like maids whose locks 

are clipped, 
And better might be boys, or bald-head-babes. 
Waloon {taking him by the sleeve). 

Monaska. 
MoNASKA {continuing to look at the others). 

Doubt me! — But I know, at times, 
Deceit that spices daintily with doubt 
The plain-served truth more seasons it to 
taste. 
Waloon {touching him again, and moving toward 
the Right Front Entrance) . 
Here — something this way I would have you 
see! 
Monaska {looking at her, then at the others). 
I must not lose my chances w^ith the maids. 
And yet — a moment — then I can return. 

{turns toward Waloon and bows.) 
The highest honors wait for him alone 
Whose charms prove greatest for the greatest 
number. 

Exit — Right — Waloon. 
Exit — Right — Monaska. 
King {to the Maidens). 
Now to select your mates. 

{to the Captives.) 

Come forward, men. 
(to Haijo, looking toward the Right Front.) 



52 THE AZTEC GOD. 

Saw you those two depart ? — She plans to tell 
him. 
(Maidens and Captives mingle and talk.) 
Haijo {to the King) . 

She will not ; no. She will not dare. 
King. What then? 

Haijo. They will return. 
King. But if they love? 

Haijo. Then she 

Will play the woman, try to fascinate 
His eye, spell-bound till blind to charms of 
others. 
King. And he? 
Haijo. He is a man. What man will barter 

Self-love for woman's love? 
King. He may. 

Haijo. If so, 

Some other will be chosen. 
King. He must be it. 

Haijo. Safe statement, sire! Small danger any 
man 
Will waive his chances for the highest 

honor 
To please a heart whose love is won already. 
King. You may be right. 
Haijo. It might be well to send 

A message to remind him of his chances. 
{to a Messenger, and pointing toward the Right 
Front Entrance.) 



THE AZTEC GOD. 53 

Saw you those two retiring to the right ? — 
Remind them of the royal proclamation. 
Exit — Right Front — Messenger. 

{Music and da?ice in which Captives and 
Maidens joiw. As the dancing ends,) 

Enter — Right Front — Monaska and Waloon. 

MoNASKA. You will not dance with me, 
Waloon? 

Waloon. No, no; 

[Not here. 

Monaska. Then I shall have to dance alone 

Waloon. Why should you dance at all? 

Monaska. Why? — Ask the leaves 

The reason why they vibrate in the breeze, 
Or ask the trees when swaying in the storm ; 
Ask of the spray-drop leaping from the rill, 
Or up and down amid the waves at sea; 
Ask of the circling smoke, tornado's cloud. 
The sun and moon revolving round the 

world, 
But when the throb of music beats the air 
And sets the currents of the breast in motion, 
Sweeping the bounding rills to rhythmic waves 
That dash like breakers through the heart and 

pulse, 
Ask not why every vein begins to glow, 
Each nerve to tremble, all the frame to heave. 
And to and fro to march, to leap, to dance, — 
Enough — if natural! — When checking nature, 



54 THE AZTEC GOD. 

You lay your human hands upon the work 
Heaven meant for what it is; you are profane. 
{he makes motions of dancing.) 
First Maiden {pointing toward Monaska and 
speaking to Second Maiden). 
There comes another. 
Second M. Where? 

First M. There with Waloon. 

Third M. Oh, see! 
First M. We go to him. 

Second M. No, no; not yet. 

Look there at that one. 
{pointing toward Wapella, who is near the Right 

Rear Entrance.) 
Third M. Which one? 

Second M. That one there. 

{All three Maids move toward the Right Rear 

Entrance.)] 

Waloon {trying to draw Monaska toward the 

Right Front Entrance). 

Monaska, do come this way — do — I fear 

Monaska. You must not fear for me. 

Waloon. You do not know 

Monaska {taking her hand). 

You tremble. 
Waloon. Oh, love, do have faith in 

me! 
Monaska. And have I none? You tremble 
like a bird 



THE AZTEC GOD. 55 

That once I caught. Poor thing, I could not 

harm it, 
So beautiful, so soft, with chirp so sweet! 
Waloon. But if you look that way, you do not 

love me. 
MoNASKA. And am I everything to you that 
you 
vShould fancy you are everything to me? 
Waloon. And am I not then? 
MoNASKA. What a fire divine 

Must blaze within a woman's heart, who 

deems 
That her one form all glowing where it kindles, 
Must cinder all things else ! 
Waloon. Do men love less? 

MoNASKA. Nay, but have eyes for things they 
do not love. 
And I, you know, am young, have seen not 
much, {looking toward the ]\Iaidens 
again.) 
And nothing of these rites you know so well. 
Waloon. That whets my fear. I know them 

all too well. 
MoNASKA. My nerves are sensitive to form 
and hue. 
A little flitting of the two but serves 
To irritate and make me itch for more. 
But let me once be free to bound and whirl 
And scratch my gaze upon them in the dance, 



56 THE AZTEC GOD. 

What cures me will not scar below the surface. 
Yes; I have better avenues through which 
These outer visions reach the heart. Besides, 
That now is wholly filled. No room is left 
For more than one. BeHeve me, I speak 
truth. 

Waloon. I know — I do not doubt you, but 

MoNASKA {laughing). You do. 

Come, come, confess now. You are jealous of 
me. 
Waloon. Not so! No, you mistake me. 
Would the gods 
Would tell you why, or let me tell you why! 
MoNASKA. You dare not tell me? 
Waloon. Nay, I — Come. 

MONASKA. I will. 

{then, as Waloon moves toward the Right Front 
Entrance) 
You mean some untold penalty awaits 
The one who fails to win the maidens' favor? 
{turns to follow Waloon, just as Haijo reaches 

him, coming from the rear.) 
Haijo {to Monaska). 

What, man, you fear not you are losing time? 
Monaska {to Haijo). 

When gaining something better? 
Haijo. What is better? 

Monaska. The worth of time is measured 
like a gem's 



THE AZTEC GOD. 57 

Not by its bulk but by its brilliancy. 
Haijo. Just what I told Waloon you thought. 
{to Waloon who is listening.) Not so? 

{to MONASKA.) 

But you — you heard the royal proclamation? 
MONASKA. I did. 
Haijo. And you would waive the 

highest honor? 
MoNASKA. For something else, could I not 

have them both. 
Haijo. And wherefore not have both? — 

{to Waloon.) You know, Waloon, 

He can. 
MoNASKA {to Waloon). I can, Waloon? 
Waloon. Have I not said? — 

Will you believe? 

Haijo This maiden, or the king? — 

Monaska. This maiden. 

Haijo. Treason! 

Monaska. And the king. 

Haijo. Prove that 

By joining in the dance. — Come, — both to- 
gether. 
Waloon. Not I! 
Monaska {aside to Waloon) . 

Waloon, you need not fear for me, 

For if I venture in the dance at all, 

I dance to win. 
Waloon {anxiously). No, no; I meant 



58 THE AZTEC GOD. 

(Maidens gather aroundMo'^ aska awJ Waloon.) 
First Maiden (to Monasica.) Come, come. 

And dance with us if not with her. 
Second M. Come on. 

Third M. Yes, come. 
First M. You must. 

Third M. No backing out! 

Second M. {taking his hand). With me. 

{They drag him with them into the dance.) 
Waloon {to Haijo, as she watches Monaska.) 
Why did he not beHeve me? He is lost! 
{All the Maidens and Captives dance.) 
Exit — Right — Waloon . 
King. Now, silence! Let the maids declare 
their choice, 
Their chief choice, gathering round his figure 

whom 
The god of love that looks through love-lit 

eyes. 
The spirit that inspires love-throbbing 

hearts. 
Finds dowered with dignity and manly grace 
And beauty, and all heart-inspiring charms 
That fitly can incarnate love's ideal. 
Music. 
{The Captives stand iti a line at the Right of 
the stage; Monaska not far from its 
front. The Maidens march along 
the line of the Captives, and drop 



THE AZTEC GOD. 59 

flowers or wreaths in front of MoN- 
ASKA. Some drop them in front of 
others, hut, seeing that Monaska will 
surely he chosen, they take the flowers 
from others and cast them hefore him^ 
and gather around him. ) 
King {descending from his seat on the pyramid 
and taking Monaska hy the hand, pointing 
with his free hand toward the seat he has 
just left, at the same time howing to Mon- 
aska) . 
Chosen of love, now bow we to your worth. 
We yield to you, and lead you to your place. 
{All except the King prostrate themselves hefore 

Monaska.) 
Monaska. You do me too much honor. 

{The King hows, and shakes his head, 

while he hegins to lead Monaska 

toward the seat at the base of the 

pyramid. Just as they reach it, 

Enter — at the Right Front — throwing up her hands 

in grief, Waloon.) 
Waloon. Chosen? Lost! 

The People chant: 

Where look the gods? 

Where look the gods? 
In glances from the sky- 
Down through the lightning's death-dealt blaze, 
Or thrilling through the starry rays? — 



6o THE AZTEC GOD. 

Oh, yes, the gods are all on high; 
But in the looks that on us gaze 
From out the love-lit human eye, 
The gods are always nigh. 

Curtain. 



ACT THIRD. 

Scene : — Same as in Act Second. The Gate hack- 
ing at the Right Center is open. Guards beside it. 
Enter — Left — Kootha and his Companion. 
KooTHA {to his Companion). 

[If what the priesthood teach us be the truth, 
Ay, if the gods do everything, themselves, 
Why should they smut our mortal souls to 

stoke 
The fuel of their smoking fires on earth? 
If they see everything, what need that we 
Play spy here to Monaska and Waloon? — 
Trail like a reptile's tail to prove them brutes, 
Where'er the love goes, which but proves them 

human? 
The power that makes a man who would stand 

straight 
Prostrate and prostitute his nobler nature. 
Sneak, dodge, crawl, shadow spirits bright as 

theirs 
May come from gods, but, if so, they have lent 
This part of their dominion to a devil. 
Perhaps they have — who knows? — The priest- 
hood say, 

6i 



62 THE AZTEC GOD. 

When earth is dark, by contrast heaven is 

bright — 
How could a mortal ever guess the greed 
Of gods for being glorified, unless 
What made mankind had damned the most of 

them 
To show how good it could be saving others? — • 
How good! — Ah, strange how much would not 

be thought 
Were it not taught! A plague on their 

presumption 
Who first began to teach, and teach religion! 
As if, forsooth, the heaven would be all dark 
Without our great lights of the temple here 
To thrust their smoking torches toward it! — 

bah!— 
Well, well, who knows? — One thing, at least, 

I know : 

They sin who shove a man and maid together ; 

And make it sin for them to touch each other.] 

Enter — through the Gate at the Right Center — 

Maidens, talking loudly. 

Hello! these belles of ours proclaim their 

presence 
As ever by their tongues. Oh, for a pipe 
To pitch them to my tune; ay, ay, a pipe 
To blow them up with, make them flip, flap, 

flop 
And whir for me, and stir the dust for me. 



THE AZTEC GOD. 63 

And make them all my puppets. I Vv-ill 

try it. 
Waloon might dodge away from them alive; 
But from Alonaska, be there none to check 
The love she bears him, she will have no 
chance. 
First Maiden. Oh, he is lovely! 
Second M . An ideal god ! 

First M. His form so graceful! 
Second M. Yes, and so well built! 

Third M. His touch so gentle! 
First M. Such a godlike flush 

On all his flesh! 
Third M. And flowering in his cheeks ! 

[First M. He seems a spirit lured to gates of 
dawn 
Who, venturing near the clouds when all 

aflame. 
Has been snatched up within their ardent arms 
And borne to earth with all their glow about 
him. 
Second M. And from his lips that have not 
lost the tint 
Of daybreak yet, there breathe forth sweeter 

sighs 
Than morning air brings when it drinks the 
dew. 
First M. Ay, ay, than morning air brings when 
it rings 



64 THE AZTEC GOD. 

With all the choruses of all the birds. 
Third M. That warmth of welcome in his eyes 

too! 
First M. Yes, 

And fire behind them, fire that when one 

feels 
The innermost recesses of the soul 

Begin to ■ 

KooTHA {interrupting her). 

Burn. — Confess they burn. 
First M. {to Kootha). 

Who spoke 
To you, uncouth one? Off! 

{continuing to other Maidens.) 

They rout the gloom 
Within the heart sure as the morning sun 
That spreads new glory o'er the darkened 

world. 
The while its fire-sped lances tilt the shades 
That fly afar, and leave our lives with 
heaven.] 
Kootha. My, my! how mighty fine my fancies 

are! 
Second M. A woman's fancy may be near the 

truth. 
Kootha. As near as fire to water. Yonder 
pool 
Is truth. The sunbeam it reflects is fancy. 
One water is, one fire. But, as 3^ou say, 



THE AZTEC GOD. 65 

The flaming of his eye has turned the sap 

Once oozing from your useless Hps to 

(Jiesitating.) 
Second M. What? 

KooTHA. Why, flames turn sap to soft and 
sticky sirup. 
[Tell now which sweet lips were they that the 

god's 
Were stuck to last? 
First M. You heartless man! You know 

We love the god. 
KoOTHA. Oh, yes! — the god in man — 

The god it takes a woman's eye to see. 
Second M. And what, pray, is it that men 

worship? 
KoOTHA. Oh, 

The thing that most men worship is them- 
selves. 
Or, look they upward, then it is the god 
Most like themselves. You know religion's 

aim 
Is bringing gods and men together; so 
To many men that creed seems best, which 

best 
Makes out how mean and small a god can be. 
Second M. {saucily). 

Does that mean anything? 
KooTHA. You think not? 

Second M. No. 



66 THE AZTEC GOD. 

KooTHA. Not SO? not so? — Come back then to 
your range — ] 
Which one of you was it, the god kissed last? 

First M. Is knowing that your business? 

Third M. Just so! 

KooTHA. Oh yes, — the business of all men. 

First M. Why? 

KooTHA. Have you observed which maid it is 
that proves 
The most attractive to the most men? 

Second M. No. 

Third M. Tell which? 

First M. Yes, tell us. 

KooTHA. Why, of course, the one 

The most attractive to the most of them. 
Ha, ha! 

{continuing, as they turn away in anger.) 

You see that most men are such apes 
They never know which girl to go for next, 
Until they see where some one else has gone. 

Second M. {sarcastically). 

Aha ! you think that we wish you, then? 

KooTHA. Yes, — ■ 

Away from here. But, frankly now, my mind 
Had stumbled on the impression that a maid 
Looks on her lovers as a Toltec brave 
On scalps : she likes to see them hanging on 
Her neck — at least in presence of such mates 
As make no conquests. 



THE AZTEC GOD. 67 

Second M. {sarcastically). 

Ah? and who are they? 
KooTHA. The town will find them out, some 

day, I guess. 
Third M. Not our fault, then? 
KooTHA. Humph, what are women for? 

And what are you about the temple for? 
Third M. Go ask Waloon. 
Second M. Yes, yes, go ask Waloon. 

KooTHA. Ah, then there is a favored one I see. 
Second M. Did I say that? 
KooTHA. You had no need. You know 

A friend can heed the meaning of our thought 
Unhelp'd by word or gesture. 
First M. You a friend? — 

Drive off Waloon then. 
KooTHA. I? — a woman-driver? — 

But were she more the dove that he esteems 

her, 
And 3^ou still less old hens than you appear, 
I think you might find bills to settle with 

her, 
And raise a cackle that would make her fly. 

{to his Companion) 
Ugh! I have roughed their feathers now 

enough. 
Poor, poor Waloon! — and yet her only safety. 

Enter — Left — Waloon. 
Ah, there she is herself. 



68 THE AZTEC GOD. 

First M. {noticing Waloon). 

Oh, here comes one 
That loves the god. How nice to love a god! 
Second A1. But not so nice to pose as loving 
one, 
i\nd only love a man. 
First M. You wait awhile. 

When they have spilt the spirit in that 

vessel, — 
Ay, when the blood is drained, it may not then 
Appear to her so rare and rose-like. 
Second M. {to Waloon, sarcastically). Ah, 

You seem surprised? 
Waloon. I am. 

Third M. And grieved? 

Waloon. And more. 

All the Maidens. Ha, ha, ha, ha! 
Waloon. I am surprised and grieved, 

And more than this — to think that you are 
women. 
KooTHA {to his Companion). 

Aha! Had not found out that fact before? — 
She knows it now, for they know how to prove 

it {to the Maidens). 
Come, come, be not so cruel. Be more 
gentle. 
First M. Are cruel, are wc? If she like it 
not, 
She need not strike at our likes. Did she deem 



THE AZTEC GOD. 69 

It kind to push between us and the god 
The wide-spread drapery of her greedy arms 
As if, forsooth, our hope were killed, and she 
A vulture feasting with foul wings afiap? 
Second M. Nay, more, too, make us laughed 

at, slighted, scorned? 
Waloon. I did not mean it so. This friend 
of mine 
Was mine before you chose him for the god. 
First M. Was yours? — and now you mean to 
keep him yours? — 
And so your eyes are always dodging his 
To catch their glances? Did you turn your 

back, 
You fear he might forget you? 
All the Maidens. Ha, ha, ha ! 

Enter — Left — Haijo. 
Exeunt — Right — Kootha and his Companion 

as soon as they catch sight of Haijo. 
Haijo {to the Maidens). 

Why, what can be the matter here? 
First M. Waloon. 

Second M. Waloon. 
Third M. Waloon. 

First M. She says the god is hers. 

Haijo. Of course, but not hers only! 
First M. Yes, hers onlyo 

Haijo. Oh, you mistook her! 
Third M. No. 



70 THE AZTEC GOD. 

Second M. Is what she meant. 

First M. She called him "mine." 
Haijo. Meant hers? 

First M. Yes, hers. 

Second M. Hers. 

Third M. Hers. 

Haijo {to Waloon). 

Can this be true? 
Waloon. I said my friend was mine 

Before they chose him. 
Haijo. Ah, but they did choose him; 

And now, according to the temple's law 

Waloon {half weeping) . 

You mean he is not mine, I know. 
Haijo. My child, 

I hoped your training 

Waloon. Do not think that men 

Can ever change our nature by their training. 

Nay, clip, abuse, deform it as you may, 

The weakest bush will bear its own flower still, 

And every heart the love life made it for. 
[Haijo. Ah, so! You think! — Who taught 

you, pray, to think? 
Waloon. My mind, sire, and the gods from 

whom it came. 
Haijo. Be careful, child; nor force us to use 

force. 
Waloon. Ah, sire, sire, when you come to deal 
with thought, 



THE AZTEC GOD. 71 

The only influence force can have upon it 
Is to suppress, but leave it still possessed. 
If error be in mind, it seems far better 
To let it out, and so be rid of it. 
Haijo. No need that we discuss that now! 
You know 
The temple's law, that when one will would 

stand 
Against the general good, that will must yield. 
Waloon. I was not speaking of my will, but 

heart. 
Haijo. Well, call it heart then. You have 
thrust your love 
Between these maidens and the god. They 

claim 
The joy and profit of his intercourse. 
Waloon. They might have shared these with 
me. Never yet. 
Have I been left alone with him. 
Haijo. And who 

Could claim exclusive rights when with the 

gods. 
Whose eyes view all, whose arms embrace the 

world. 
And if incarnate for a time in man. 
How base in us to tempt their high, pure life 
Toward our low, selfish, human love for one! 
Waloon. Is that why we were watched? 
Haijo. Did you not need 



72 THE AZTEC GOD. 

A hint that others too had claims upon him? 
What profit is it though a god may dwell 
In human form, if souls, whom else the god 
Would lure to love and draw to sympathy 
With heavenly thought and deed and light and 

hfe, 
Be kept away from him by one like you? 
First M. Just what we ask. 
Haijo. What all the wise would ask.] 

Second M. She keeps us from him. 
Haijo. If she do this more 

The law will interfere, and part them wholly. 
Enter — through the gate hacking at the 
Right Center — a line of Priests, 
Priestesses, etc,, singing before a 
chariot in which Monaska is drawn 
upon the stage. His head is crowned 
with flowers, and he thumbs a lyre- 
like musical instrument. All sing 
the following: 

All hail the god! All hail and laud 

The god we now enthrone, 
Whose realms extend, all bright and broad 
Beyond the seas and stars and aught 
That ears have heard, or eyes have sought, 

Or hands could ever own. 
All hail the god! All hail the god! 

Upon the man we call ; 
But bright behind the gaze we greet, 
There gleams the glory yet to meet 



THE AZTEC GOD. 73 

Our souls beholding past the gloom 
Of toil and trouble, tear and tomb, 
The god beyond it all. 

All hail the god! All hail and laud 

The god we bow before, 
Whose altar fires, while all are awed, 
Are lit in souls that flash through eyes 
That light for heaven itself supplies. 

Nor could one wish for more. 
All hail the god! All hail the god! 

Upon the man we call; 
But bright behind the gaze we greet, 
There gleams the glory yet to meet 
Our souls beholding past the gloom 
Of toil and trouble, tear and tomb, 

The god beyond it all. 

First M. {to Monaska, as he descends from 
the chariot, while all how to him). 
All hail the god! 
Sfxond M. All hail! 

Third M. All hail! 

First M. {noticing that he pays no attention to 
the salutation of the Maidens, although 
they are making every effort to attract his 
attention) . All hail ! 

Monaska {to the Maidens). 

I like not hail-storms but the gentler sunshine. 

[{pushing through them toward Waloon.) 
Yet sometimes through the arch-bow of the 
storm 



74 THE AZTEC GOD. 

Life enters on its heritage of hope.] 
{takes Waloon hy the hand, then, as she does not 
speak.) 
You do not speak to me. — Why this? — Why 
this? 
Waloon {gesturing toward the other Maidens) . 
They chose you. They have claims upon you 
too. 
MoNASKA. Claims to my gratitude — I yield 
them these. 
Claims to my love? — Ah, no. 
Haijo. And you will not 

Accede then to their claims? 
MoNASKA. Their sex's claims 

Are well acknowledged, as I think, by him 
Who plights his whole soul's faith to one of 
them. 
[Haijo {gesturing toward the other Maidens) . 

Nay; plight your faith to all of them. 
MONASKA. To all? — ] 

Why, I would not insult these women so 
As to suggest that love for one alone 
Did not fill my whole heart to overflowing. 
You seek here room for more? — Then you 
mistake. 
{addressing the Maidens, who seem offended at his 
language.) 
And can it be that I had not revealed 
The truth ? Forgive me. I had meant to do it. 



THE AZTEC GOD. 75 

The time has come to end your doubt? — I will. 
Here stands the holy father. Here stand we. 
{looking toward Haijo and taking Waloon's 
hand, then leading her toward the Right.) 
Yes, it is time our vows were made in public. 
What? what? — you hesitate? — you do? — you 

do? 

Exeunt — Right — MoNASKA and Waloon. 
First M. {to Haijo). 

And would we better follow? 
Haijo. Wherefore not? 

The mood is on her now to thrust him off, 
And if she do but push him far enough, 
What should he do but tumble then toward 
you. 
Enter — through the gate at the Right Center — the 
King and Attendants. 
Exeunt — Right — Maidens. 
King {to Haijo). 

How fares it with the god? 
Haijo. His heavenly mood 

Is yet upon him. 
King. He does not suspect? 

Haijo. Not he! — Why, he was just now order- 
ing me 
To seal his vows, and wed him to Waloon. 
King. He does not deem it strange we honor 

him? 
Haijo. Each to his own conception is a god. 



76 THE AZTEC GOD. 

Proclaim him this, you but concede a claim 

Long felt within. He knew it all before. 
[King. The egotist! 
Haijo. Yes, but we all are that. 

The spirit, we are told, is made of air. 

Like air it is in this, — will force its way 

And feel full right to enter and possess 

Whatever space a crack or crevice opens.] 
King. How to himself, does he explain the 
way 

That all the maidens wait upon his wishes? 
Haijo. He thinks they deem him lord of all 
creation. 

And so they do, forsooth. Their bearing 
proves it. 

King. He deems Waloon? 

Haijo. His only, through and through. 

King. She never can be more completely his? 
Haijo. Impossible. 
King. The time to pluck a flower 

Is just when in its bloom. 
Haijo. I think so, sire. 

The hour has come to tell him of his fate. 

A member of our nearer tribes would know it. 

He knows it not. Waloon now shuns him. 
Look {pointing to the Right.) 

And he must find excuse for this, or else 

May turn away from her, and seek another. 

If so, he may not always keep her love. 



THE AZTEC GOD. 77 

Besides, Monaska ought to know the truth; — 

Is wasting time with her. 
King. Has naught to do 

With others? 
Haijo. No; and therefore should be told 

Our laws must part him from her. 
King {looking and pointing to the Right). 

You are right. 

I see him coming this way now. 
Haijo. With some 

Request, I warrant. 
King. Wise men do not greet 

A suppliant with too open hand and heart. 

Did gentleness not midwife his desires. 

His cries would sooner die for lack of nursing. 

And so I think they best refuse reqtiests 

Who best refuse to hear them. Let us go. 

Exeunt — Left — King and Haijo. 

Enter — Right — Monaska followed stealthily by 

Waloon. {He notices the King and Haijo). 

Monaska {to Waloon). A generous mind is 

never loath to face 

The object of its benefaction. No; 

Had all that they have done been kindly done, 

They would not thus have turned their backs 
upon us. 

That Haijo is no man to harbor trust. 

[He never holds a steady eye to greet 

The look that rests on him. It seems as if 



7^ THE AZTEC GOD. 

He feared that one might spy within his brain 
Some secret that a dodging glance could 

shield. 
I fear the secret may concern yourself. 
For ever when I lead you where I hope 
No mortal will be present to profane 
Vows fit for only gods to hear, some form, 
With eyes omniscient as a very devil's 
Incarnate in an earthly messenger, 
Outspawns its fouling shadows on the light 
Like night-shades to the lost who pray foi 

day. 
Just now, when here I came, he too was here. 
We left him then, and you were deaf to me. 
What drug to hearing poured he in your ear 
To deaden nerves hereto so sensitive 
To slightest whispers of my thrilling love 
That hands, voice, lips and eyelids, all your 

frame 
Went trembling like a willow in a wind? 
It cannot be the cause is in yourself? — 
Or is it? — May you merely pity me. 
Whose life you saved, as thousands might be 

saved ; 
And, moved by pity still to note my state, 
Thus hinder me from fully asking what, 
If rightly answered, would but seal my 

doom? — 
No, I have asked you fully — ay, and you — 



THE AZTEC GOD. 79 

Those eyes — ah, naught but light divine as 
love's 

Could so illumine, so transfigure them! 

Exit — Right — Waloon, as if in fear of Haijo 
wJiom she has apparently seen approaching. 

Enter — L eft — Haijo . 
Haijo. Alone, Monaska? 
MoNASKA. Yes. 

Haijo. Alone? Alone? — 

With all those maidens praying for your 
presence? 
Monaska. I dodged behind a tree, then, when 
they left, / 

Came here. 
Haijo. A valiant warrior! 

Monaska. Yes — with men. 

Haijo. With women? 
Monaska. He with her I think is valiant 

Who waives what would be force. 
Haijo. And runs away? 

Monaska. Why, yes, if elsewise he might be 

ungentle. 
Haijo. Your waste of time does not yet weigh 

upon you? 
[Monaska. My what? 

Haijo. You chose a life not long, but 

brilliant. 

Monaska. If so 

Haijo. Is brilHant now, but will be brief. 



8o THE AZTEC GOD. 



MoNASKA. Be brief ?- 



Haijo. Enough, I hope, to make you ply 

Your opportunities. 
MoNASKA. And what are they?] 

Haijo. You craved for love. 
MoNASKA. Ay, and you promised it. 

Haijo. You have it. 

MoNASKA. Have it? — No, I have it not. 

Haijo. Your heart must be a very glutton then. 

With all these maids 

MoNASKA. And what are they — to love? — 

Haijo. They chose you, yet you turn your 

back upon them. 
AloNASKA. But you know why: I turn my 

back on lust 
That I may turn my face to love. 
Haijo. Poor fool, 

But one life can you live, and yet you lose it! 
Monaska. But one love can I keep, and I shall 

keep it. 
Haijo. Too bad you had not thought of that 

before. 
Monaska. Before? 

Haijo. Ay, ay, before the maidens chose you. 
Monaska. Chose me, and not I them. 
Haijo. You courted them. 

Monaska. Oh, no. 
Haijo. You sighed, you smiled, you sued, you 

wooed. 



THE AZTEC GOD. 8l 



MoNASKA. You overstate- 



HAijo. What made you leave Waloon? 

MoNASKA. I leave her? 

Haijo. You. — When, just before the dance, 

She talked with you aside, and begged you not. 

Were you so wholly satisfied with her, 

That was the time to show it. 
MoNASKA. But — the king — 

His proclamation, and the highest honor 

Haijo. You have it now. You gained it leav- 
ing her. 
MoNASKA. I left her for a moment only. 
Haijo. So! 

Great fires are kindled in a moment only. 

Where hearts are tinder, and a glance a spark, 

[Why, there 

MoNASKA. Aha, those dusky robes of priests 

Astride the broken beam of every ray 

That bridged my prison's gloom have not 
been ghosts 

To haunt my love alone? They have been 
fiends * 

To turn it to a curse. 
Haijo. Blame your own choice.] 

MoNASKA. But how could I have known the 

choice meant this? 
Haijo. Who knows the fruitage of the seed he 
plants? — 

Like seed, like fruit. 



82 THE AZTEC GOD. 

MoNASKA. The seed was very small. 

Haijo. The fruitage large? — Yet both were 

one in kind. 
MoNASKA. Nay, tho' my transient look went 
wrong, my feet 
Have followed righteousness. Ah, sire, you 

know 
Some think the only harvests heaven can find 
Unfold from germs dropped near enough to hell 
To fear its heat and grow away from it. — 
Why was it wrong to seek the highest honor? 
How could one know it could not come with 
her? 
Haijo. You think that one small man's experi- 
ence 
Embraces in its clasp the whole broad earth? — 
Nay, it is finite. Every path has hmits. 
Climb up to mountain-tops, you turn away 
From flower and verdure, spring and warmth, 

to dwell 
With rock and weariness and thirst and chill. 
MoNASKA. Oh, this is preaching! And you 
promised me 

A brilliant life 

Haijo. Life brilliant far beyond 

Your highest hope. 
MoNASKA. Nay, nay, you promised love. 

Haijo. The choicest maidens of the realm are 
yours. 



THE AZTEC GOD. 83 

MoNASKA. But not Waloon! 

Haijo. Is his experience then 

So strangely brilUant who is loved, forsooth, 
By one maid only? 

MoNASKA. It may not be brilliant, 

But like a star in heaven it fills with light 
One point — that where the gods have placed it. 

Haijo. You — 

May be a sun round which mere stars revolve. 
Your dignity has larger, broader range 
Than gains fit homage from the love of one ; — 
Which, if you have not learned, you should be 
taught. 

MoNASKA. And yield Waloon? 

Haijo. Waloon — till you can yield 

Your love to others. 

MoNASKA. What? When I have let 

Their lustful kisses drain the dew of youth, 
Give her the parched and lifeless remnant? — 

No. 
Go take that wolf-skin from the snarling 

hounds 
When all the blood has been sucked out of it, 
And flesh gnawed off, and fling it, cold and 

limp, 
Out to another wolf panting for a mate; 
But ask me not to fling love's foul cold carcass 
Out to her arms to whom I owe my life. — 
Oh, cursed fate! 



84 THE AZTEC GOD. 

Exit — Left — Haijo shrugging his shoulders. 
Enter — Right — Wapella with a Woman. 

Wapella, you here? Oh 
Wapella, you were right! — And who is this? 
{gazing at the Woman.) 
Wapella. My wife. 
MoNASKA. Your wife? — Beware — you cannot 

keep her. 
Wapella. Oh, no one cares what I do here! 
Not I, 
Not I, but you have won the highest honor. 
MoNASKA. Yes — won the highest honor. I, 
forsooth, 
I have, Wapella. Ah, why are the scales 
That measure what our world is worth so poised 
Betwixt the outward and the inward life 
That what lifts up the one must lower the 

other? 
Why, when we reach the highest earthly place 
Must this be balanced by the spirit's fall? 
Enter — Right — other Maidens and Waloon, 

who is hack of them. 
(MoNASKA continues — poijtting to Waloon.) 
Wapella, there is heaven; and all the world, 
A world that will the more pollute my soul, 
The more I try to cross it, lies between 
Myself and it, and keeps me here in hell. 

Curtain. 



ACT FOURTH. 

Scene First: — Interior of a Imt or tent hung with 
curtains, evidently used as a prison for Mo- 
NASKA. Entrance at the Left. The Curtain 
rising discloses Monaska dressed in gorgeous 
apparel. He has on a garlanded head-dress 
and in his hand a large lyre-like musical 
instrument. Kootha, who apparently has just 
finished robing him, sta^ids regarding him. 
[Kootha. You seem a rising sun. Each time 
the crowd 
Renew their gaze on you, your splendor grows. 
Monaska. And when, at last, they tone me to 
a pitch 
That no new height of splendor can transcend, 
To get more halo, will they burn me up? 
Kootha. Oh, no, not that! 
Monaska. How long now will it be 

Before this play will climax?] 
Kootha {looking toward the Left). 

Some one comes. 
Enter — Left — Haijo. 
Haijo {to Monaska). 
Good day. 

85 



86 THE AZTEC GOD. 

(Haijo motions to Kootha to retire.) 

Exit — Left — Kootha. 

MoNASKA. I have my doubts if it be good. 

Each time you come to me and call it so, 

Your coming makes me more your prisoner. 

Haijo. Of course, if you will yield not to our 

ways 

MoNASKA. If I gulp not the feast you gorge me 
on. 
And bury all my soul beneath the spoils 
Of foul and glutton appetite — why then 
I will not prove the bloated beast you wish. 
Haijo. We hope that you will prove a god. 
MoNASKA. What forms 

Your test of godhood? 
Haijo. What is it shall bring 

The spirit of the fair- god back to earth, 
When once again his white-winged vessels 

leave 
Their land of ease, and brave the sea for us? 
MoNASKA. I know not — What? 
Haijo. Self-sacrifice. 

MoNASKA. Yes, yes, 

I see — perhaps I wronged you. You may 

light 
These fires of fierce temptation round me but 
To test my metal. — Have I triumphed then? 
Haijo. Triumphed? O'er what? — I spoke oi 
sacrifice. 



THE AZTEC GOD. 87 

MoNASKA. And I have sacrificed low love for 
higher. 

Haijo. You call that sacrifice? 

MoNASKA. What? Is it not? — 

To give up what is earthly for the heavenly? — 
Turn from the serpent coiled within the loins 
To follow in the flight of that fair dove 
Whose wings are fluttering within the heart? 

Haijo. To turn from those you loathe to those 
you like? — 
I did not speak of that. 

MoNASKA. Ah, not of that? 

Of what? 

Haijo. Self-sacrifice. 

MoNASKA. That sacrifice 

Is due to self. 

Haijo. And if it be? 

MoNASKA. Why, sire, 

You think to force my fate; and if you do, 
There may be sacrifice, but not by self. 

Haijo. That does not matter. 

MoNASKA. Does not? — in a spirit' — 

You would make godlike? 

Haijo. Should it? Why? 

MoNASKA. Because, 

Each time you try to mould a spirit's life 
With fingers grappling from the fist of force. 
You clutch but at the air, at what is far 
Too fine for force to handle. 



88 THE AZTEC GOD. 

[Haijo. May be, too, 

That what you speak of, is too fine for some 
To care to handle. 
MoNASKA. Care not for the spirit? — 

What are your gods? 
Haijo. The sovereigns of our temple. 

MoNASKA. The outward temple only, not the 

inward? 
Haijo. You deem the sovereigns of the two 

may differ? 
Monaska. I do. I know of priests who judge 
of gods 
Like altars by their gilding, to whose greed 
One god in hand is worth a score in heaven. 
For every time they kneel to touch their 

puppet, 
It shakes to sprinkle gold-dust on them. 
Haijo. Hold! 

Where were you reared to such impiety? 
Monaska. Where sun, moon, stars rained 
from the blue above 
And flowers were fountained through the 

green below. 
Where lights we knew not what, but they were 

heaven's. 
Looked down on eyes that looked up from the 

earth, 
And men, whatever might impel their souls, 
Were guided onward by a goal to mate it. 



THE AZTEC GOD. 89 

Haijo. Ay, and by priests and prophets. — 

Tell the truth. 
MoNASKA. Yes, there were those who dreamed, 
and those who deemed 
In darkness they saw forms that had been 

earth's, 
And heard their words, and they believed it 

true 
That there was life behind the sights we see. 
But those who stood the highest of the high, 
And knew our poet-king, were taught to look 
Upon a God beyond the reach of men. 
Haijo. Beyond their reach, what were he 
worth ! Young man , 
You have your priests, your temples, ay, we 

know it. 
And have but one religion. 
MoNASKA. And we speak 

One language too, but differ in the accent. 
The language gives the passwords of the race, 
The accent keys the culture of the home. 
And some were welcome at the royal home. 
Haijo. And there were taught religion? 
MoNASKA. There we heard 

The poems of our prince ; and prized them not 
Because his tongue controlled us, but his truth. 
Haijo {contemptuously) . 

Religion of a poet! — upside down 

And inside out, to fit each freak of fancy! 



90 THE AZTEC GOD. 

MoNASKA. Religion of a man, sire. You would 
say 
One cannot see the spirit save through 

forms. 
Yet who can see through forms, except as 

these 
Obscure the spirit? Be it so, why, then 
Our king was right to bid us use our eyes, 
Yet not believe that what we saw was all. 
And what we cannot see, yet feel exists, 
We cannot think of, save as we imagine. 
And so the phase that best reports the spirit 
Is that of poetry, — so said our king. 
Hai JO {sarcastically) . 

His was a vague religion! 
MoNASKA. Not so vague 

As that religion is whose forms befriend 
A life to which all laws within the soul 
Are foes. Our king with his one queen would 

never 
Have sanctioned, much less led himself, a life 
Like that. Oh, something surely must be 

wrong 
When that which rules without rules not 
within.] 

Hai JO. And you will not be ruled 

MoNASKA. By what you urge? — 

I cannot. 
Haijo. Yet they chose you as their god. 



THE AZTEC GOD. 91 

MoNASKA. Then it befits me like a god to live. 
Oh, sire ! those are most worth our help on earth 
Whose eyes look up, and he who stands above 

them, 
Would he fulfill their soul's ideal, must show 
A life worth while their looking up to see. 
Haijo. Well, then, prepare to die. 
MoNASKA. To die? 

Haijo. To-day. 

MoNASKA. Ye gods! I had not thought of 
that — so soon? 
So soon? — why, you had promised I should 

have 
My fill of love! 

(Haijo stands sneering at him.) 

What fool is more a fool — 
What foe is falser — than one false to self? — 
And false, forsooth, because of flattery — 
Nor of the soul — but of this outward frame, 
Frame destined for a shattered wreck to-day. 
No, no! — not that — it cannot be! No, no; 
It is against all nature I should die. 
What have I lived for, if I am to die? 
Exit — Left — Haijo, beckoning, as he goes out 
to some one beyond the entrance. 
Enter — Left — Kootha. 
(MoNASKA continues to Kootha.) 
You come to deck me for my death? Faint 
heart ! 



92 THE AZTEC GOD. 

{putting his hand upon his heart.) 
And it had so much life ! I thought its thrills 
The rilling of a fount whose brook should flow 
Out to a sea of life, as wide as earth, 
And upward to a golden clouded heaven. 
Why, all my moods — they banner spring- 
time yet. 
The buds but just unfolding, scarce a flutter 
To balm the breeze with their sweet promises ! 
Must all be now cut off? — uprooted? — what? 
The prickliest cactus clutches, at the last, 
The flower toward which it grows; and shall 

these nerves. 
All tender to the touch of life, so live 
Themselves, so hungry to be fed, yet void 
Of all with which hope pledged them to be 

filled— 
Shall they be cheated out of this they craved? 
Are all the visions of the fancy frauds 
That fool our faith, anticipating joy 
That never comes? Is that mysterious power 
That prompts our lives to be, and pushes on 
Toward what it promised them, so vilely weak 
That, like a knave who fears to be outwitted, 
It needs must lash and lure us with a lie? — 
Yet now — O heaven! I will not so believe it. 

I cannot; no, I cannot! 

KooTHA. What is this 

You will not do, and cannot? 



THE AZTEC GOD. 93 

MoNASKA. You saw that priest 

That just now left me? 
KooTHA. Haijo? — Yes, I saw him. 

MoNASKA. He says I am to die. 
KooTHA. Most people die. 

MoNASKA. He says, to-day. 
KoOTHA. Bad jobs are near their best 

When nearest ended. 
MoNASKA {in surprise). You? — indifferent? 
KooTHA. Same thing — am old. 
MoNASKA. And so are hard? 

[KooTHA. No, soft; 

Have learned to yield to what could not be 
blocked 

By my opposing it. I know no rose 

That blooms but fades. 

MoNASKA. Yet men 

KooTHA. Oh, yes, yes, men 

Are different, I know. I know, for men 

Not only fade but worse — 
MoNASKA {distressed) . Why picture it ? 
KooTHA {intentionally harsh). 

I own no pigment dull enough. — You know 

What human life is? — all a fight of soul 

To keep the body sweet, — a fight a bird 

Or beast knows nothing of. A babe when 
born 

Is dipped in water; every following day 

Is dipped again. If not, ere long will come 



94 THE AZTEC GOD. 

Disease and death, and, when a mortal dies, 
His fellows all thank heaven that they have 

hands 
To keep the fight up for him; for, if not, 
Be he not burned or buried in a jiffy, 
The air of heaven may find the spirit sweet, 
But not the air of earth — pugh! — well he left 

it! 
MoNASKA. You judge of men by their outsides. 
KooTHA. Oh, no! 

Some of our people here so love a man 
They feast upon him. Who, pray, could 

know more 
Of his insides? They say — their sense is 

trained — ■ 
That nothing has a taste as much like man 
As has — what would you guess? — a hog.] 
MoNASKA. You think 

By drugging me with bitters, you can whet 
An appetite for death? Man, I am young. 
KooTHA. Be thankful, then, that you have not 

grown old. 
Worn out, diseased and full of pain. 
MoNASKA. To think 

That all this glowing blood within these 

veins 
Should be spilled out, before my soul has 

drunk 
The pleasure that is in them. 



THE AZTEC GOD. 95 

KoOTHA. When thus drunk, 

The veins will be exhausted, have no stock 
To treat the sense with longer ; and the soul, 
Intoxicated with the joys of earth, 
Will be too heavy weighed to rise above them. 

[MONASKA. But I 

KooTHA. The worst of prisoners is a soul 

Severed from its own realm by appetite 
That lets naught pass that pays no toll to 

greed. 
Mere soulless brutes are better than are men 
With souls that love but that which they can 
lust for.] 

MoNASKA. Nay; not of low desires I spoke. I 
meant 
That I had never tasted love. 

KooTHA. Then you 

Have never found it bitter. 

MoNASKA. Cynic! 

KooTHA. One 

Must be what earth has made him. 

MoNASKA. Let me die 

Before I learn a lesson sad as that! 

KoOTHA. Wise prayer! Ay, it is mercy lets us 
die 
Before our souls decay — makes life more sweet 
To those who have to live it with us here. 

MoNASKA. No, no! You do not understand — 
Waloon 



96 THE AZTEC GOD. 

KooTHA. I understand the world. It frames 
her soul, 
And yours, and souls in this world fit their 
frames. 
MoNASKA. You deem my disposition too 
despotic 
To be appeased by service of her love? 
Yet not myself I think of, but of her. 
KooTHA. Think of her as she is then. 
MoNASKA. How is that? 

KooTHA. A woman. 

MoNASKA. What, pray, is a woman? 

KooTHA. What 

Is made to woo a man. 
MoNASKA . What man ? 

KooTHA. What man? 

Why, any man. 
MoNASKA. You villain, to say that! 
KooTHA. Humph! I have seen the world, and 
tell you truth. 
You deem the truth is villainy? — it is — 
The truth about this world. 

MoNASKA. You think Waloon 

KooTHA. Will mourn you? — Yes, a while; but 
woes like hers 
Are troubles which a kindly Providence 
Will always raise up some man who can cure. 
MoNASKA. Waloon — I must believe she knows 
this now — 



THE AZTEC GOD. 97 

Has made a solemn vow, if aught should come 
To me, to serve as priestess in the temple. 
KooTHA. Oh yes; oh yes; with you to be her 

god. 
MoNASKA. Sad, lonely servitude ! 
KooTHA. Oh, no. 

MoNASKA. With none 

To love? 
KooTHA. But there are others there. 
MoNASKA. What for? 

KooTHA. To represent the god. 

MoNASKA. You mean 

KooTHA. Oh, no! — 

No, not this week, nor month, not that, not 

that. 
But when the time comes — when this lonely 

soul 
Desires content, and cannot leave the place 

Without dishonoring herself and us 

MoNASKA. Your evil mood is master of your 

thought — ■ — 
KooTHA. Say, makes my conscience conscious 
that no law 
Can legislate the devil out of life. 

You block a maiden of one lover 

MoNASKA. Knave! 

KooTHA. Nay, some would call him both a 
knave and brute — 
Who failed to make her seem less lonely. 



98 THE AZTEC GOD. 

MoNASKA {angrily). The king 

would not permit this. 

KOOTHA. No? 

MoNASKA. He would? 

KooTHA. You see — 

The king — he chiefly represents the god. 

MoNASKA. What? — I have heard he loves 
her. — Can this be 
A plot of his to get her, will or nill? 
You mean to say 

KoOTHA. I do not need to say it ; 

I think a man might, if he had some sense, 
Put two and two together. — Times will come 
When they two will be two together. Humph ! 
One ought to guess the rest. 

MoNASKA. And ought to swear 

To level every wall that can shut out 
The sun that brings to light man's every act — 
The only weapon that can ward off ill 
From souls allured to wrong through 

secrecy. — 
And you — what cause had you to hint this 
tome? 

KooTHA. You thought Waloon w^ould suffer 

MoNASKA. So she will. 

A thousand deaths were better for her. 

KooTHA. Whose? — - 

{insin uatingly . ) 
You mean the king's? 



THE AZTEC GOD. 99 

MoNASKA {suddenly changing his manner) . 

Are you a native here? 
KOOTHA. Not I. 

MoNASKA. Of what tribe then? 

KooTHA. Sh — sh — of yours. 

MoNASKA. Mine? mine? 
KooTHA. I said it — captured years ago. 

[MoNASKA. And here? 
KooTHA. Dishonored. 

MoNASKA. Why, you seem a priest? 

KooTHA. I am what priests would be, did they 
beHeve 
In being what they seem. 

MONASKA. How SO? 

KooTHA. A man 

Yet not a man.] 

MoNASKA. You wish me? 

KooTHA. Yes, of all 

The captives taken by us, you alone. 

When tempted, have not let them drain your 
veins 

Of healthful soul-strength, to inject therein, 

In place of it, their foul sense-fevering virus. 
MoNASKA. And you would save me? 
KooTHA. Do you think a man 

Can save a god? — It is the god saves men. 

You see this point here? 

{pointing to a sharp protuberance on one 
end of the musical instrument carried 



100 THE AZTEC GOD. 

by MoNASKA. MoNASKA examines 
it.) 1 have known a man 

Who had no weapon 

MoNASKA. Yes, I see the point! 

KooTHx\. A time will come when you stand 
near the king. 
If then you choose to give a benediction, 
The people's eyes will all be looking downward ; 
And if there be confusion, and some gate 
About the pyramid be open, then 
Quick feet might pass it, and quick eyes might 

see 
A friend of mine who might be sent to guide 
them. 
MoNASKA. When is it that I stand so near the 

king? 
KoOTHA. Just when he bids you give this lyre 

to him. 
MoNASKA. And I will give it! — What comes 

just before? 
KooTHA. Our adoration. 
MoNASKA. What just after? 

KoOTHA. You 

Begin to mount the pyramid; — meanwhile, 
Keep dropping off you, one by one, your 

robes. 
The king takes first this lyre, and Haijo next 
Your head-dress; then, the other priests the 

rest. 



THE AZTEC GOD. lOI 

MoNASKA. Till everything be taken from me? 
KooTHA. Yes. 

MoNASKA. Before the people? — an indignity! 
KooTHA {sarcastically) . 

They will have done your spirit so much 
honor, 

It will be too much honored for this body. 
MoNASKA. You mean the body will be too 
dishonored 

For any spirit to remain in it. 
KooTHA. Oh, not dishonored ere the godship 
leaves. — 

Then what does flesh devoid of god deserve? 
MoNASKA. Damnation, if devoid of godship 
mean 

Devoid of spirit to defend the flesh. — 

And so they kill me? 
KoOTHA. In the end they do. 

MoNASKA. They mutilate me first? 
KooTHA. That lasts not long. — 

You are to see Waloon now. 
MoN ASK A . See Waloon ? 

How cruel both to her and me! 
KooTHA. Oh, then. 

If you wish not 

MoNASKA. Nay, but I do — and you — 

You are to watch us, as has been your 
wont? 
KooTHA. Why — 



I02 THE AZTEC GOD. 

MoNASKA. It will be my final word with her. — 
Were you to be a god, what would you give 
To speak that word and not be overheard? 
KooTHA. Eternal benediction. 
MONASKA. So will I. 

Or god or spirit, here I pledge you it. 
KooTHA. I shall not overhear. 
MoNASKA. One hope is left. 

I have the lyre — 
{making motion 0} using lyre as a weapon.) 

can give it to the king. 
[Though I may die, I need not leave Waloon 
To her worst enemy, — that spider-soul 
Bating his web of lust with my pure love, 
And, for his foul embrace, entrapping thus 
The vainly fluttering wings of her fair spirit 

{looking toward the Left.) 
But ah, — she comes. I must not think of self. 
But of this better self. If any soul 
Had ever need yet to believe in God 
Through a belief in man, that soul is hers.] 
Exit — Left — KooTHA. 
Enter — Left — Waloon. 
Waloon. Monaska. 
MoNASKA. Here I am, Waloon. 

Waloon. You know 

The truth? 
Monaska. I do. Oh, love, but it is hard. 
[You knew it all these days ? 



THE AZTEC GOD. 103 

Waloon. I feared — 

MoNASKA. It was 

For this I deemed you jealous of me? 
Waloon. Yes. 

MoNASKA. A fool that I have been! But who 
could think 

Humanity could be so base? 
Waloon. Be what ? 

MoNASKA. They are to kill me; and you had 
not heard ?] 

Or do you think it right that I should die ? 

Waloon {in surprise and reproach) . 

Monaska ! 
MoNASKA. Have I no friends left? not one? — 

Not even you? — you wish to kill me too? 

W^ALOON. No, no, not that 

Monaska. I, all my life, Waloon, 

Have served a spirit larger than myself. 

These lim.bs but fit it on a single side, 

Their utmost only half what it w^ould have. 

And now, athrill with spirit-arms that stretch 

Up toward the heaven and onward toward 
heaven's love. 

My balanced being had embraced in you 

That other side. We are not two, but one. 

And — think — to part two factors of one life 

Is murder — not of body but of spirit. 
Waloon. Monaska — what? — Monaska, are 
you mad ? 



104 THE AZTEC GOD. 

MoNASKA. Not yet, not quite. 
Waloon. But think — you are the 

[MoNASKA. Do you believe this? 
Waloon. I? — why should I not? 

MoNASKA. Have always heard it, eh? — and 
most of us 
Commune with reason through our mem- 
ory; 
And not the work of our own minds we 

heed, 
But rote-repeated phrases framed by others. — ] 
Do you believe me then to be a god? 
Waloon. You must be. 
MoNASKA. Your god, yours, Waloon? 
Waloon. My god. 

MoNASKA. To hear you say so, I could think it 
too. 
Thank heaven, thank heaven! But if I leave 

you here, 

Waloon. I still will love you — serve you in the 

temple. 
MoNASKA. Nay — sa}^ not that! 
Waloon. I must though — if I love you. 

Mo NAS KA . You must ? — and why ? 
Waloon. Because their souls are cursed 

Who loved the god, and serve not in the 
temple. 
MoNASKA. Is that what they have taught you? 
Waloon. Yes. 



THE ALTEC GOD. 105 

MoNASKA. A part 

Of that instruction which they call divine ? 
(Waloon drops eyes and head in assent.) 

I thought so ! — and they say they make me god. 

No, no; they make me devil! — Would they 
could ! 

What happy hours in hell would heat the hate 

IMy heart could hurl at what they call divine ! 
Waloon. W^hat said you? 
MoNASKA. Said I? said I? — It was naught 

[But practicing to be a god. You know 

A coming glory casts a glow before it. 

Those who shall be the lords of fowldom 
gobble 

A gobble at times before their gills are grown.] 
Waloon. You seemed in anger. 
MoNASKA. So are gods at times. — 

They think of men. 
Waloon. Of women too? 

MoNASKA {changing his tone). Oh yes; 

Of women : — they are said to be in bliss. 

Waloon, you love me? 
Waloon. Yes. 

MoNASKA. Will always love me? 

Waloon. I will. 
MoNASKA. Then if a devil come to you. 

In human shape, and say he represents me, 

Swear you will not believe him — though the 
king! 



I06 THE AZTEC GOD. 

Waloon {startled). 

What can you mean? 
MoNASKA. You do it, I will damn you — 

Not only I — but all the gods there with me. 
(Waloon draws hack in fear. Monaska's tone 
changes.) 
Waloon, are you afraid of me, Waloon? 
Waloon {hesitatingly). 

Why — no — 
MoNASKA. I have a last request to make. 

I have to die in public, — is that so? 

(Waloon hows in affirmation.) 
They strip and mutilate me first? 
Waloon. You mean 

When — when they tear your heart out? 
Monaska {in horror). Tear? — what, what? — 
While I am living, feeling, tear my heart out? 
W^aloon. Oh, do not speak of it! It — let me 
rest. 
{almost swooning, and seating herself.) 
Monaska. You faint! — Oh, horror! — and for 

me, Waloon? 
(hending over her, and talking huskily and rapidly.) 
We have but one brief moment more together. 

{trying to rouse her, and succeeding.) 
Wake! — there is one thing you must promise 

me. 
When I am gone — their ghastly deed been 
done — 



THE AZTEC GOD. I07 

I wish you to recall me as I am, — 
One fit for all things almost, save to die, 
Each factor, organ, limb of me complete, 
And, at this moment, hot against the fire 
Blazed through me by your love-enkindled 

eyes, 
No sinew but is trembling with the draft 
Of that delicious flame ; and yet none too 
Not strengthened by a power divine like that 
Propelling all creation, — I am god, 
Not man. Nay, nay ! Remember me as god. 
You must not see that unveiled, writhing 

frame, 
Weak, color-void, save where the death-blood 

dyes it. 
Waloon, you must not be there. I shall 

writhe 
More like a god to know you are not there. — 
But go you where we met first — in the woods — 
You know the place — to me the holiest place 
My life has ever known! Waloon, go there. 
Oh, swear to me you will. — My soul will 

swear 
To meet you. 
Waloon. What ? 

MoNASKA. By all that makes me god, 
In form, perchance, in spirit certainly. — 
[Will you, Waloon? 
Waloon. I 



I08 THE AZTEC GOD. 

JMoNASKA. Swear it. So your soul, 

i\s I depart this life, may draw mine own 
Off in the current of that sympathy 
Forever sweeping from my life to yours ; 
Away from ways where human wills out- 
wit 
The wisdom that has made earth what it 

is, 
To where, in that true temple of the spirit, 
The winds are whispering what men know not 

of, 
And flower and leaf are trembling like the 

heart 
That feels the presence of the power divine. — ] 
There go I, darling — you? 
Waloon. I too. 

MoNASKA. Thank heaven ! 

Enter — Left — Kootha, and his Companion. 
KooTHA. Your time is up. 
MoNASKA. Farewell, Waloon. 

Waloon. Farewell. 

Oh, bitter, bitter, bitter word farewell, 
So bitter when the lips belie the heart 
That knows too well that life will not fare 

well. 
Enter — Left — Haijo with two Attendants. 
MoNASKA {to Waloon). 

Things may turn brighter than you fear, 
Waloon. 



THE AZTEC GOD. I09 

Waloon. Could they be darker? Oh, my god, 

my god! 
{She hows before Monaska, clinging to his hand.) 
KooTHA {to Haijo as he gestures toward Waloon). 

Note how complete is her devotion, sire. 
Haijo {to Kootha, hut at the same time motioning 
/{? Waloon). 
Remove her. 
{pointing to Monaska and speakijtg to the 
Attendants.) 
Lead him forth. 
Monaska {to Waloon). Farewell. 
Waloon {to Monaska) . Farewell . 

Monaska. Do not forget — we meet where only 

gods are. 
Waloon. Yes — there. 
Monaska. Have faith and hasten. 

Waloon. Yes, farewell. 

Exit — Left — Waloon . 
Haijo {to Monaska). 

Now comes the hour in which you triumph. 
The people at the temple wait for you 
To do you adoration. 
Monaska {lifting up his haftds). With their 

hands ? 
Haijo {also lifting up his hands). 
To lift your spirit to the skies. 
Monaska. You think 

I crave that? 



no THE AZTEC GOD. 

Haijo. Most men would. 

MoNASKA. A wingless hand 

Lifts only to a wingless height. A role 
Not past the common reach of common men 
Cannot incite uncommon aspiration. 
Lead me on. 

Exit — Left — MoNASKA, led by the two Attend- 
ants. 

[Haijo (to Kootha). 

How does he seem to take it ? 

Kootha. Just like a god when made by man; 
or if 
You like not that, a man when made by a god. — 
Is there much difference between the two? 

Haijo. And how Waloon? 

Kootha. She thinks as all the world do; 

So lives enough in hell to please a priest. 

Haijo. You villain! 

Kootha. Yet ! I always do your bidding. 

Haijo. Ungrateful cur ! 

Kootha. Nay, do not say ungrateful. — 

Nay; I am thankful for what you have 
taught me. 

Haijo. My curses on you! — To the sacrifice! 
(Haijo moves towards the Left Entrance.) 

Kootha {to his Companion.) 

The two things go together. And how kind, 
When one has curses loaded on him so, 
To let him load them on another ! 



THE AZTEC GOD. Ill 

Haijo {turning toward Kootha). What? — 
Away. 

Exit — Left — Kootha. 
(to the Companion). His insolence must end, 
or I 
Must find a way to put an end to him.] 
Exit — Left — Haijo and Kootha's Companion. 

Curtain. 

Scene Second : — Same as the Scene in Act Second. 
Enter — through the gateway, — in a procession 
marching to the music of the orchestra. At- 
tendants, Priests, Priestesses, Maidens, 
Pages, Haijo, the King, Monaska sitting 
in his chariot, and apparently playing his lyre, 
and, near the chariot, Kootha and his Compan- 
ion. Guards end the procession, and station 
themselves near the gate. This is not closed. 
The Attendants and Priests station them- 
selves at the Right facing the Left; the Priest- 
esses and AIaidens at the Left facing the 
Right. The Pages are i?i Front of the Pyramid. 
Monaska descends from the chariot and stands 
beside Haijo, facing the pyramid. Kootha 
stands nearer the gate. His Companion 
stealthily gets behind one of the Guards, and 
then Exits, at the gate. The King ascends the 
pyramid a few steps, and, standing in front of 



112 THE AZTEC GOD. 

the rugs forming a seat near the base of the 
pyramid, faces the audience. The following 
is then chanted: 

Oh, not what life appears to be, 

Is what in life is true. 
Inveiled behind the forms we see 

Are things we cannot view. 
What but the spirit working through 
The guise men wear to what they do 
Reveals the force that, foul or fair, 
Awakes and makes the nature there. 

The sunshine shows the worth of suns, 

The moisture, of the shower; 
The stream, of rills from which it runs, 

The fragrance, of the flower; 
And, oh, the spirit when it springs 
Above the reach of earthly things, 
As fall the limbs that feed the shrine. 
Reveals the life to be divine. 

(Haijo ascends the pyramid a few steps 

and stands beside the King facing 

MoNASKA, who mounts a lower step 

and whom Haijo's hands can touch.) 

The King. Now once again, unveiled for 

mortal gaze, 

Immortal mystery and man have met. 

The heavens bend low to touch the earth, and 

earth 
Is lifting up its longing hands to heaven. 



THE AZTEC GOD, II3 

Haijo {lifting both hands). 

Oh, ye that dwell less in the earth and sky 
Than in the meditations of the mind, 
■We thank thee that the power of old imposed 
On ministers of earth can downward call 
(Haijo here places both palms on Monaska's head.) 
Upon a form in fashion like their own 
The presence of the gods' own power above, 
Till in a human form it sits enthroned. 

{As he utters the last words, the King takes 
MoNASKA by the hand. Monaska 
mounts the pyramid between the King, 
who is at his right as he turns to face 
the People, and Haijo who is at his 
left. The moment Monaska stands 
on the step between the King and 
Haijo both the latter and all the 
People kneel, while all chant the 
following:) 
Haijo. All hail the heavenly sun. 
People. The heavenly sun! 

Haijo. All hail the glory won, 
People. The glory won ! 

Haijo and People. 



All hail the sun that brings the light, 
All hail the rays that shower, 

And wake the barren wastes of night 
To germ and leaf and flower. 



114 THE AZTEC GOD. 

Haijo. All hail the heavenly sun, 

People. The heavenly sun! 

Haijo. All hail the glory won, 

People The glory won! 

Haijo and People. 

All hail the life behind the sun, 

All hail the gods that dwell 
Where men whose earthly race is run 

Are borne, and all is well. 

Haijo. All hail the heavenly sun, 

People. The heavenly sun! 

Haijo. All hail the glory won, 

People. The glory won ! 

Haijo and People. 

All hail the form of him who dies, 

All hail the soul that wends 
Up through the skies, and onward hies. 

All hail the gods, our friends. 

{The stage grows darker, indicating an approaching 
storm.) 

King (rising, as do all the People). 

Now comes the deed that all the gods await, 

The final act of solemn joy that gives 

The life we prize to those that reign on high. 

But ere his lyre be given to the king, 

Let those appointed for the sacred task 



THE AZTEC GOD. 115 

Be led here to conduct their holy charge 
On his most holy way. 

(Haijo moves, as if to descend the pyramidy 
hut stops, and turns hack upon hearing 
the voice of Monaska.) 
MoNASKA {to the King.) Your majesty? — 

Sire, may I ask? 

King. What would you? 

Monaska. A request, 

If I may speak. 
Haijo {to the King) . Sire, he needs nothing. 
Monaska {to the King). Slight 

The last request of him who is your god? 
King {to Monaska). 

Say on. 
Monaska. I merely thought, sire, that my spirit, 
To be inspired the better toward the light. 
Should gaze upon yon rising sun ; but here 
It cannot, 
{pointing toward the gateway at the Rear.) 
King. Not ? 

Monaska {motioning toward the guards between 
the pyramid and the gateway). 

Could these but step aside! 

King {to an Officer at his Left). 

Yes, let the guards there stand aside, nor hide 
The sunlight from the sacrifice. 
Haijo {to the King, making a gesture of dissent). 

But, sire 



Il6 THE AZTEC GOD. 

King {hesitating, ajtd looking from Monaska to 
Haijo, then addressing the Officer again). 
You need not give the order. 

{to Haijo.) Now proceed. 
Let those appointed for the sacred task 
Be led here to conduct their holy charge 
On his most holy way. 

(Haijo descends the steps of the pyramid. 
Those about separate to let him pass 
them. Exeunt — through the Curtains 
at the Left — Haijo, followed hy a pro- 
cession of Priests. A sudden peal 
of thunder with lightning.) 
Monaska {to the King, availing himself of the 
general commotion at the suddenness of the 
peal). You dare deny me? 

The gods have joined me in my last request. 
Beware, lest by the charm yourselves invoke 
These gods, that you but half believe in, 

check, 
In ways that pride like yours deserves, the 

cotirse 
And curse of most foul infidelity. 
King. Well, well, it matters little. 
{to the Officer, and motioning toward the gate- 
way.) Officer, 
Give orders that the guard there stand 
aside. 
(Officer moves toward the gateway and 



THE AZTEC GOD. I17 

gestures. The Guard move toward 
the Right. Kootha takes a station 
between the pyramid and the gateway. 
The King conti?tues to Monaska.) 
'Now are you ready? 
Monaska. If the man be naught, 

Let not the spirit that you deem divine 
Depart, ere it invoke the powers above 
To rest in endless benediction here. 
King. This proves how wisely you were 
chosen god. — {to the People.) 
He whom we worship calls upon us now 
To kneel and all receive his benediction. 

(The People kneel, and bend their heads. 
MonasIvA, lifting one hand, motions 
to the Guard near the gate that 
they too kneel. Kootha, by motions, 
seconds his wish, bidding them all 
kneel down, which they do, bending 
their heads forward, and casting 
down their eyes. They are in front 
of the gateway, with their backs 
toward it.) 
Monaska {noticing that the King is still stand- 
i7ig). 
I would include you too, sire. 
King. Me? 

Monaska. You too — 

{The King kneels. While he is doing so. Mo- 



Il8 THE AZTEC GOD, 

NASKA looks toward Kootha and hows, then 
speaks to the People in a slow, loud 
manner.) 
This is — my — benediction — for the people. 
{Bright flash of lightning, followed by a loud 
peal of thunder. Monaska hurls the 
lyre down tipofi the head of the King, 
then flies past Kootha behind the 
Soldiers, and through the gateway 
backing at the Right.) 
King. Help, help ! 

Kootha {running toward the King and motioning 
the Guards to do the same). 
What is it? 
King {to an Officer, who is bending over him). 

He has murdered me, 
Kootha. Oh, murder, murder! 
{to the Guards.) 

Shut the gates. Let none 
Escape. 
(Guards hasten and close the gates hacking at 

the Right.) 
Officer. Where is he? — Stop him. 
Kootha {standing on a step of the pyramid at the 
Back and looking toward the Right) , 

Ah! too late! 

Curtain. 



ACT FIFTH. 

Scene: — Same as in Act First. The darkness 

of an approaching storm. 
Enter — Right — Waloon attended by her Maid. 
Waloon {to the Maid). 

[Yes, yes, it is the place; no doubt of that; 
Yet, in the dark, is all so vague and wild. 
How the whole air is weighted with the gloom ! 
Even to draw it in, my lungs, o'ertaxed, 
Would rather choose not breathe than bear 

the burden. 
These clouds are curtained like a funeral pall, 
Fit funeral pall, round my dear dying hope. — 
My dying hope? — Oh, selfish, cruel soul. 
To think of it when, even now, perchance, 
That dear, dear heart, so eager-sped by love, 
Whose each pulsation, like a paddle's beat 
Seemed furthering some canoe's o'erladen 

prow 
Where it should rest and empty at my feet ; 
That dear, dear heart, so pliant to my wish 
That, at my lightest breath, the brightening 
smiles 

119 



120 THE AZTEC GOD. 

Would open round his lips in hues as fair 
As rosebuds parted by the breeze of May; 
That dear, dear heart, the germ of all he was — 
The sweetest outgrowth of the sweetest life 
This earth has ever molded into form; — 
To think that even now a heart like that, 
Its nerve-roots quivering in their agony, 
Is being torn out from the bleeding breast 
As if some foulest weed that could pollute 
A soil that, just to hold it — that alone — 
Is more than sacred. Oh, how can the 

heavens 
Be so unjust ? Far better not to think 
Than think but of that fearful, bleeding 

vision. 
Would, would that I could veil it out — but no !] 

{Thunder.) 
The voice of thunder ? — Can it be that he 
Would speak to me through that? — No, not 

through that. 
Not he! — He loves me. — Yet he may have 

changed. 
[Some tell us that the fairest forms on earth, 
Most full of mirth and softness and caress, 
Whose mildness tames life's wild, coquettish 

blood, 
Leave in the tomb their loveliness and charm, 
And go thence, fiends. — And he? — no, no, not 

so!— 1 



THE AZTEC GOD. 121 

I almost had forgot he is a god. 

Though what would gods be for, if man were 

good? 
And if he be not good, what are they for, 
Except to punish him? — and am I doom'd? — 
Why not? — Is not my spirit in rebellion? 
Perhaps it was the man in him, not god, 
The man they rightly killed, that tempted 

me 
To leave the temple and to wander here. 
And now the god, then prisoned in the man, 
May wreak his vengeance on me. 

{Thunder.) Hark — again! — 
And rain too ! I must find a shelter. What ? — 

{looking toward the Left.) 

Can they be warriors? — Can we be pursued? 

Exit — Right — Waloon and the Maid. 

Enter — Left — Two Warriors. 

{Thunder and lightning.) 

First Warrior {looking toward the Right). 

A woman, I am sure. 
Second Warrior. If so, not he. 

No noise! — Were he to think himself pursued 
He might escape us. 
First Warrior. That could never be. 

The woods are wholly circled by us now; 
And him we know to be inside. 

{moving toward the Right Rear.) 
{Thunder and lightning.) 



122 THE AZTEC GOD. 

Second Warrior {looking earnestly toward the 
Right, hut moving toward the Left). 

This way ! 
I saw a form there coming ; and the price 
Of capturing by surprise is keeping silence. 
First Warrior. Ay, you are right. No wise 
men spring a trap 
Till sure their prey is in it. We withdraw. 
Exeunt — Left — the Two Warriors. 
{Thunder and lightning.) 
Enter — Right rear — Monaska attended by Kootha's 

Companion. 
Monaska. At last, the place! I feared we 
should be lost, 
So many in pursuit, and those who know 
The ground so well, and we alas, so ill ! 
Strength speeds the feet, but knowledge aims 

the bow. 
And where the one but just begins the race. 
The arrows of the other cleave the goal. 
Who could have thought so many cross-roads 

here 
And short-cuts to a pathway well-nigh straight ? 
At last, we seem now to have dodged the foe; 
And if I find Waloon — what then? — I fear 
We might attempt escape in vain. — Perchance 
It may be best that she should not be here, 
To die disgraced if found with me — no, no; 
Did she but dream of life I plan for her, 



THE AZTEC GOD. 1 23 

Disgrace from its foes would to her seem 

honor ! — 
[What sanguine brain is mine ! How know I 

this? 
To most men no disgrace can loom like theirs 
Who dare do aught save by the grace of custom. 
Where earth's esteem is what all strive for first, 
Her customs make them cowards to the call 
Of conscience ; and the foulest crime 
Seems not a curse, if it be only common. 
Waloon too — could I ever dare reveal 
To what departure from all common ways, 
To all that she deems holy, I had led her ? 
What right have I, more than those priests 

have there 
To slay me for the safety of their souls, — 
What right have I to shade her future life, 
Or slay her, as it may be, for my love? 
And were she now to come and find in me 
A murderer, where she hopes to find a god, 
A coward, driven in fright from ordeals 
Which she had prayed would prove him fit for 

heaven, — 
Oh, how might she abhor these treacherous 

arms. 
Thrown open to receive her! how detest 
Lips that to keep her love must keep their lies ! 
What has my rashness wrought? Is it so well 
For one man to resist what all men wish? — 



124 THE AZTEC GOD. 

The customs that the centuries have crowned? 
How many have dared all to thwart the world 
And only thwarted good the world could do 

them! 
I might have passed from earth upon a throne, 
Revered by all men, and beloved by her, — 
Her god! — and shall I now become her fiend? — 
Live on condemned by her, because I dared 
To fight against a world that all should serve ? 
Ah, if my dying could have given one heart 
That comfort of the spirit which all crave. 
How could my soul have wrought a godlier 

deed? 
We live our lives for use; if men misuse us, 
Far better so than that we lose all use. 
And yet, — what is our use? — Oh, would some 

power 
Could tell us how to balance, in our lives, 
The rule of others and the rule of self! 
How can we, when the two conflict, serve both ? 
And which one should we serve? — which 

first? — Which chiefly? — 
Till spirit seem no more than matter is, 
Let me serve that which rules me through the 

spirit.] 

{Thunder and lightning.) 
(MoNASKA looks toward the Right Front.) 
Who come? — more warriors? — No, my soul — 

she ? — yes — 



THE AZTEC GOD, I25 

Ye gods, if I have not deserved the doom 
Of deepest hell, for her sake, god me now. 
Exit — Right — Kootha's Companion as if to 
guard AIoNASKA. 
Enter — Right Front — Waloon. 
Waloon. Monaska! — Oh, ye angels, can it 
be? — {kneeling.) 
Nay, blast me not that these unworthy 

eyes 
Should have presumed to gaze where earth is 

blest 
With this transcendent vision. 
Monaska. Yes, Waloon, 

You see me. 
Waloon. You? — Oh, love, chastise me not. 
Monaska {taking her by the hand.) 

Rise up, Waloon, rise up. I merely love 
you. 
Waloon. You love me? — what? — this poor 

weak fainting flesh? {She rises.) 
Monaska. Yes, it is this I love. — I thank you, 
friend. 
You had such faith, and came here. 
Waloon. Thank the gods 

That I have lived to do what pleased a god. 
Monaska. Waloon, do I fulfill your soul's 
ideal 
Of what a god should be? 

{The sky begins to grow brighter.) 



126 THE AZTEC GOD. 

Waloon. Ah, more, far more. 

MoNASKA. If I came back to live on earth with 
you 



Waloon. Nay, hint not that. Earth would 

be too much heaven. 
MoNASKA. And if I were to tell you this, 
Waloon, 
That, far away from here, there lies a realm 
Where gods like me can live with maids like 

you, 
But that, to go there, you must rend yourself 
Forever from the land that is your home, 
Where dwell 3^our friends and kindred, would 
you go? 
Waloon. Though you be god, you know not 
woman's heart, 
If you believe I would not. 
MoNASKA. Swear it then. 

Waloon. I swear 

MoNASKA. To leave this land and all 

you love here, 
And fly to live alone with me forever? 
Waloon. And fly to live alone with you. 
MoN ASKA . Forever ? 

Waloon. I do. — What moved? 

{She points toward the Left. The sky 
grows darker again, with a sound of 
distant thunder and slight flash of 
lightning.) 



THE AZTEC GOD. I27 

MoNASKA {looking toward the left). 

It seemed a flash from weapons. 
Waloon. The woods are full of warriors, as I 

think. 
MoNASKA {anxiously looking around). 
I see — are all about — each side of us. 

heavens, our time has come! — Yet all draw 

back ! — 
We have a moment more. 
{pointing to the moss-covered bench, apparently 
hidden behind a tree near the Right Rear.) 
Waloon, in here! 
Waloon {gazing around, and apparently seeing 
the Warriors, then seating herself on the 
bench, where Monaska sits beside her). 

1 know not what it means. 

Monaska. You never heard 

Of hosts that come with gods to visit earth? 
Waloon, were I to tell you that the realm 
In which the gods dwell could be reached by 

you 
In one way only, — in the self-same way 
That severs in the temple soul from form 
In him your priests and people choose as 

god? 

Waloon. Then I would thank the force that 

severed me 
From all that could weigh down a soul so light 
That but for them I too might soar to heaven. 



128 THE AZTEC GOD. 

MoNASKA. Swear you mean truly what you 

say, Waloon. 
Waloon {lifting her hand). I swear it. 
MoNASKA {motioning her to drop her hand). 

Wait — could you return again 
And be a priestess in the temple there, 
As you have told me that you would become, 
With all the honor that a priestess has. 
And all the consciousness of deeds divine, 
And could you, as the years wore on, forget 

The love you once had borne this god 

Waloon. No, no. 

I never could forget that. 
{The sky from here on keeps growing brighter.) 
MoNASKA. Hear me through. 

Your king is absolute. He could do all 
Your heart desires. What say you, should 

there come 
A time when he — he loves you now, Waloon — 
Should choose you for his queen. If this, 

Waloon, 
This exaltation over all the earth, 
Were your bright destiny, say, would you 

choose 
To die, die here alone with faith in one 
Whose only welcome for you is a blow? — 

{doubling and lifting his fist.) 
Would you choose this ? 
Waloon. I would. 



THE AZTEC GOD. I29 

MoNASKA. In truth? 

Waloon. I would. — 

{half rising and looking toward the Left.) 
Who is that coming? 
MoNASKA {looking the same way, then at her) . 

Do not be afraid. 
Why should a soul with faith sublime as yours 
Fear aught? — Your love alone, if nothing else, 
Could here create of me the god you think me. 
{hurriedly and nervously, as he induces her to lie 
on the moss-covered bench.) 
These come to summon both of us to heaven. 
Here darling, rest your head upon this mound. 
Cast one look more at me, then let me veil 
These loving, earthly eyes from all of earth. 
A look like this must never see the stroke 
That drives the soul-light out of them. — 

There, there, 
You are content, my darling, you are sure? — 
Content to live with me in spirit only? 
Waloon. I am-. I am. 

MoNASKA. Farewell. — I mean farewell 

To earthly presence. 

{placing a branch or wreath over her eyes.) 

Now to angel hands 
I leave my angel — nor a whit too soon. 
{gazing anxiously toward the Left.) 
Wapella {from behind the Left Entrance). 
Monaska. 



I30 THE AZTEC GOD. 

Waloon. Who is that? 
Wapella. Monaska. 

MoNASKA (rmwg). What? 

I know that voice. 

{to Waloon.) Lie still, dear. I return. 
Enter — Left Front — Wapella. 
Wapella. Monaska. 
Monaska {moving to meet Wapella.) 

What?— Wapella? 
Wapella. Yes, — with friends. — • 

To save you. 
Monaska. How can this be? How came you 
To seek me here? 

Enter — Left — Kootha. 
{Enter — Right — Kootha' s Companion. Enter 

— from Right and Left — Warriors.) 
Wapella. We tracked you. Weeks ago, 

When learning what would be your fate, I 

fled. 
I found our comrades, many still not slain. 
We all returned, and watched here in the 

woods. 
Then Kootha met us — vowed to do his best 
To save you, and this morning, when you flew. 
We watched, we dodged, we circled round 

your path, 
And now have trapped you. We shall all 
escape. 
{in surprise, as they approach Waloon.) 



THE AZTEC GOD. I3I 

Waloon is with you? 
MoNASKA {taking Waloon by the hand). 

Yes. — Rise up, Waloon. 
Waloon {rising and gazing about in a dazed way) . 

And who are these? 
MoNASKA. Kind friends to welcome us, 

And lead us to the realm of which I spoke. 
Waloon. The realm? — What realm? 
MoNASKA. What realm, Waloon ? — My heaven. 

Curtain. 

End of the Drama. 



COLUMBUS. 



133 



COLUMBUS. 



INTRODUCTION : PLACE AND TIME 

This drama is intended to be a study, psychologic rather 
than historic, though not unhistoric, of the character of Co- 
lumbus, as manifested and developed in connection with his 
experiences before, during, and after his discovery of America. 
The general outline of the plot is as follows : 

ACT FIRST : In Portugal. Scene First : A public 
square. Talk about the plans of Columbus and about him- 
self. His entrance, his introduction to Felipa, and invitation 
to her house. Scene Second : Room in the house of Felipa. 
Reasons why Columbus hopes for success, the failure of his 
hopes, and his betrothal. Scene Third : Same room ten 
years later, rearranged as study of Columbus. Hounded by 
his creditors and wronged by the King, he loses Felipa by 
death and decides to leave Portugal. 

ACT SECOND: In Spain. Scene First: A Spanish 
camp at midnight. Columbus has enlisted as a soldier, is 
ridiculed for his schemes, has a talk with Beatrix, is present 
at an attempted assassination of the Queen, and thus comes to 
meet the King. Scene Second : The Council of Salamanca, 
called to confer with Columbus and discuss his projects. 
A summary of the popular objections urged against them. 
Scene Third : The exterior of the convent of La Rabida. 
To prevent Columbus from leaving her country, and to insure 
the success of his plans, the Queen pledges to him the Crown 
jewels of Castile. 

135 



136 COLUMBUS. 

ACT THIRD: In Transit. Scene First: A street in 
Palos near its harbor. The difficulties and opposition en- 
countered by Columbus when preparing to sail, coming from 
his friends, as Beatrix, and from his enemies, who try even to 
destroy his boats. Scene Second : The deck of his ship at 
sea. The mutineers, their talk when alone and when with 
Columbus, and his dealing with it. The midnight discovery 
of land, and the morning approach to it. 

ACT FOURTH : hi Triumph. Scene First : Room in 
a house in Spain. Columbus welcomed by Beatrix, and urged 
to secure benefits from the Crown ; and his description to her 
and to Diego of his voyage and the new land. Scene Second : 
Reception at the palace of Barcelona by the King, Queen, and 
populace. Scene Third : Dining hall in the house of Car- 
dinal Mendoza. The egg story. 

ACT FIFTH : In Chains. Scene First : Camp in His- 
paniola. Opposition to Columbus on the part of noblemen 
and imported criminals. Placed in chains by his enemies. 
Scene Second : House in Seville. Death of Columbus. 
Scene Third : A final tableau with hymn, representing a 
vision of the dying Columbus, portraying the progress and 
present condition of America. 



THE FOLLOWING CHARACTERS APPEAR ONLY 
IN THE FOLLOWING ACTS. 





In the First Act Only. 




James of Mallorca, 


Waiter, 


Correo, 




Felipa, 


Tailor, 




Dona Correo, 


Grocer, 


In the Second Act Only, 


Woman. 


Fernandez, 




Zalora, 


Talavera, 




Perez, 


St. Angel, 


Attendant. 


Other Monk 



Only after the First, in the Second and later Acts. 
King Ferdinand, Arana, 



Gutierrez, 
Sanchez, 



Beatrix, 
Queen Isabella, 



Mendoza. 



Only after the Second atzd in later Acts. 

Escobar, Roldan, 

Pintor, Citizen. 

Only in the Fifth Act. 

Velasquez, Young Diego, 

Gamez, Fernando, 
Indian. 



What moves me seems beyond all conscious thought ^ 
Seems like the lure that leads the summer bird 
Southward 7vhen comes the fall. It is enough. 
It is my destiny. I weigh it well. 
And find it rational ; yet why I first 

Conceived it as I do, I cannot tell. 

Columbus, III, i. 

Think not I lived my life 
To beg men for a badge to brag about ! — 
Enough, if I have been an influence. 

Idem, V, 2. 



CHARACTERS. 



(Christopher) Columbus. 
Diego (Columbus). 
Bartholomew (Columbus). 

FONSECA. 



Breviesca. 

King Ferdinand. 
Gutierrez. 

Sanchez. 

James of Mallorca. 

Correo. 

Fernandez. 
Mendoza. 

Talavera. 

St. Angel. 

Zalora. 

Arana. 

Perez. 



The Discoverer of America. 

Brothers of Christopher Co- 
himbus. 

Archdeacon of Seville, Trav- 
eler in Portugal, afterwards 
Bishop of Badajos, Palentia, 
and Burgos ; then Patriarch 
of the Indies. 

A Portuguese friend of Fon- 
seca, then later his Secretary, 
Treasurer, and Agent in 
Spain. 

Of Aragon, and, after Mar- 
riage, of Spain, 

Gentleman of the Spanish 
King's Bedchamber, and 
Officer. 

Officer, Inspector-General of 
Columbus' Expedition. 

President of the Portuguese 
Naval School. 

Husband of Sister of Felipa, 
Columbus' Wife. 

Physician and Scientist of Spain 

Archbishop of Toledo, Grand 
Cardinal of Spain. 

Bishop of Avila, Confessor to 
the Queen. 

Receiver of Ecclesiastical Rev- 
enues of Aragon. 

Bishops of Spain. 

A Monk, subsequently Prior of 
the Convent of La Rabida 
near Palos. 



139 



140 



CHARACTERS. 



Escobar. 

PiNTOR. 
ROLDAN. 

Gamez. 

Velasquez. 

Young Diego. 

Fernando. 

Tailor. 

Grocer. 

Waiter. 

Moor. 

Other Monk. 

Attendant. 

Indian. 

Felipa (Perestrello). 

Beatrix (Enriquez). 



Queen Isabella. 



Dona Correo. 

Woman. 

Maid. 



Sailors with Columbus, Settlers 
in the New World. 

Subtreasurer in Hispaniola. 
Eldest Son of Columbus. 
Youngest Son of Columbus. 

In the First Act. 



In the Second Act. 

In the Fifth Act. 

Wife of Columbus, Mother of 

young Diego. 
Companion of Columbus after 

Felipa's death. Mother of 

Fernando Columbus. 
Of Castile and, after Marriage, 

of Spain. 
Sister of Felipa, wife of Correo. 
In the First Act. 
In First and other Acts. 



Citizens, Officers, Soldiers, Courtiers, Sailors, 
Settlers, Women, etc. 



COLUMBUS. 



ACT FIRST. 

Scene First. — A street or square in Lisbon, 
Portugal. Backing at the Right, a wineshop, 
in front of which are two tables each with four 
chairs about it. Backing at the Left, a convent 
wall ending against a chapel, the door of which 
faces the audience. Entrances at the Right 
Center through the door of the ivineshop; at the 
Left Center through a curtai?i hanging in the 
doorway of the chapel ; and at the Right and 
Left Sides through streets. The rising curtain 
reveals Fonseca and James of Mallorca 
seated at the Right. The following is chanted 
in the chapel. 

O Life divine, from thee there springs 

All good that germs and grows, 
Thy Light behind the sunlight brings 

The harvests to their close. 

O Life divine, thou art the source 

Of truth within the soul ; 
Thou art the guide through all the course 

That leads it to its goal. 
141 



142 COLUMBUS. 

O Life divine, what soul succeeds 

In aught on earth but he 
Who moves as all desires and deeds 

Are lured and led by thee! 

Enter — from the Wineshop — Breviesca, and a 

Citizen. 
FoNSECA {to James). You came to see? — 
James. That man Columbus. 

FoNSECA. Him? 

A crank, — and worse, a creaking crank! 
James. Without 

Some crank to creak of it, men might forget 
The wheels of thought were made to move 
them on. 
FoNSECA. You place thought on the right track 
once, you find 
What moves it on is not what moves it off. 
They differ. 
Breviesca {to the Citizen). I must wait till 
church is out; 
Then meet by accident — go home with her, 
And fish an invitation to her house — 
A lovely girl, Felipa! — As I live! 
Enter — Left — Diego. 
That man I met when traveling in Spain! 
Is always looming up. I wonder what 

Should bring 

Diego {to Breviesca). Good-day to Senior 
Breviesca. 



COLUMBUS. 143 

Breviesca {to Diego). Good-day to you. 

Exit — Left — the Citizen. 
Diego {looking toward the chapel) . Your servant, 
Senior. — So! — 

At your devotions that you told me of — 

Front door ones, too ! — No wonder you deemed 
strange 

My studying for the priesthood ! 
Breviesca. But you said 

That you had turned from it. 
Diego. Oh yes ! Truth is 

That I too am in love — but love myself. 
[Breviesca. Are candid. 
Diego. Wish to be. For that I changed. 

God started man; man's deviltry the priest. 

For one, I like the thing God started best. 
Breviesca. Like others, eh? — yet like yourself. 
Diego. I do; 

That is, we two do — God and I. 
Breviesca. And now 

They style you, "Your Irreverence"? 
Diego. I am reverent. 

Breviesca. A different way of looking! 
Diego. Looking downward, 

One seems irreverent; looking upward, not 
so.] 
FoNSECA {to Breviesca, rising and going toward 

him with James). Is this not Senior ? 

Breviesca {to Fonseca). Senior Breviesca? 



144 COLUMBUS. 

FoNSECA. And I, Fonseca — Spaniard — met you 
once 
In Seville. You recall? — 
Breviesca. Archdeacon — yes. 

You honor me. 
Fonseca. You pleased me when we met. 
{introducing James.) 
Professor James — Mallorca — naval school. 
Breviesca {introdiiciyig Diego). 

And Senior Diego of^ {hesitating). 

Diego. The world. 

Breviesca. Quite true! 

Diego. A traveler, knowing little — would know 

more. 
James. A wish to my own heart! I came to 
meet 
The mariner Columbus here. 
Enter— from the Chapel — Felipa, Correo, 

and Dona Correo. 
Breviesca. ^ol {then seeing Yriav a). Ah! 
Diego {to James as he looks at Felipa) . 

A pretty point, too, for his exclamation. 
James {to Diego). Would you see more of 

it? 
{To Felipa.) Good-day. 
Felipa and Dona Correo. Good-day. 
Correo {to all). Good-day. 
James {introducing Diego). 

Allow me, Captain — Senior Diego, 



COLUMBUS. 145 

A traveler like yourself. — 

{introducing to the ladies) Seniora C'rreo, 
And Seniorita F'lipa Perestrello. 
Will sit?— and, Waiter? 

Eyiter — from the Wineshop — Waiter. 
Wine here. 
[Waiter. Red or white? 

James {to all). What say you? 
Dona Correo. None for me, thanks. 

James {to Felipa). You? 

Felipa. Nor me. 

James {to the others). The gentlemen, at 

least? 
Correo. I will perhaps. 

James. I thought it. {to the other gentlemen.) 
You too? — White, not so? Its hue 
Will fit this sunny air, and make us think 
Of drinking in the sunshine !] 

{He pays the waiter for the wine.) 

Exit — into the Wineshop — Waiter. 
{All seat themselves at the tables, from left 
to right, in this order : first empty 
chair, then Diego, D. Correo, Cor- 
reo, Felipa, James, Breviesca and 
FoNSECA. James continues to Cor- 
reo.) 

Was that man 
Columbus in the church? 
Correo. Not met him. 



146 COLUMBUS. 

James No? — 

A sailor, drawing maps now for our school — 
FoNSECA, Who should be kept to that and 
facts — not draw 
So much upon his fancy. 
[James. You should hear 

His arguments. 
FoNSECA. Say feel them — all their points 

Well dipped in pagan poison. 
James. Oh, not all! 

FoNSECA. Enough to make all deadly. 
James. Beg your pardon; 

But I lack scent to follow up your trail. 
FoNSECA. You know a priest should save the 

world from lies? 
James. Have no scent yet! — am senseless?] 
Enter — from the WinesJwp — Waiter with five 
glasses of wine, and sets them before 
the gentlemen. 
FoNSECA. Put it thus: 

If what he says be right, the church is 
wrong. 
James. Oh, not so bad as that! — has not found 

out. 
FoNSECA. If what he says be wrong, his dupes 
will drown, {to Correo.) 
Not so? 
Correo. It is the first time yet that I 
Have heard of him. 



COLUMBUS. 147 

FoNSECA. You will hear soon enough. 

The surest proof we men are not all fools, 
Is in the way we bruit them when we find them. 

Diego. Ay, and the surest we are not all brutes, 
Exit — into the Wineshop — Waiter. 
Is in the way our thinkers make us mind them. 

James. A friend of his, eh? 

Diego. Yes. 

CoRREO. Have known him long? — 

Can tell us of him? 

Diego. Is from Genoa; 

A mathematician, studied at Pavia. 
Since then, till now, for more than twenty 

years, 
A sailor and a soldier — in the scrubs 
At Naples, Tunis, famous for his fights 
Against the infidel — last year, the man 
Who clampt his frailer bark against a huge 
Venetian galley, and when both took fire, 
Driven to the water, holding but an oar, 
Swam in to Lisbon; and that oar of his. 
All that he brought here, may yet prove to be 
The scepter-symbol of a mightier sway 
Than your King ever dreamed of. 

Correo . Ah ! — How so ? 

Felipa. Yes, yes! 

Diego. His plan is now to sail around 

The world; and in the trail he leaves behind 
Loop all to Portugal. 



148 COLUMBUS. 

Felipa. Around the world? 

James. Oh, you should hear him talk! 
FoNSECA. No, no, should not — 

A mad dog to be muzzled ! 
Diego {to Felipa). You should not — 

Unless you wish to think and feel, and thrill 

To feel, there is a larger world than ours. 
Breviesca. In one's imagination. 
Diego. Be it so. 

Imagination is the soul of thought. 
[Brevisca. Well, take the soul, but we will 
keep to sense. 

(FoNSECA nods at him approvingly.) 
Diego. Humph ! many a joke would better not 
be cracked. 

The kernel's 

Breviesca. Not entirely to your taste? 
FoNSECA. Well, well! — Quite frank for stran- 
gers! 
James. Come, come, come. 

Enthusiasm needs a margin. 
FONSECA. But 

We may not need enthusiasm. 
James So ? — 

And you say this ? — a priest ? 
Breviesca. And pray, why not? 

James. Why not? — Why, friend, enthusiasm 
is 

The essence of religion 



COLUMBUS. 149 

Diego. Valueless 

Without its uplift and its oversight. 

If these it lack, it is a lifeless corpse 

Not measured by its worth but want of it. 
{to James.) 

Not true? 
James. I think your training has been good. 
Diego. It came from him we speak of. 
Felipa {to CoRREo) . How I wish 

That I had known him! 

CORREO. You? 

Felipa. Why, any man {pointing to Diego) 

To kindle fire like that 

CoRREO. Must have enough 

To keep a maiden warm and cosy, eh? — 
Think you that follows? I have known of 

men 
Whose thought would flash like lightning, 

lighting up 
Half heaven besides the whole of earth; and 

yet 
A whirlwind, did you trust to its caress, 
Would never lead you in a madder dance. 
Diego. Not true of him we speak of. — One less 
mad 
Does not exist. 
FoNSECA. Oh, you seem bit by him! 

James. Come, come, the church is wise, per- 
haps, to put 



150 COLUMBUS. 

Her brake on wheels that else might whirl .us 

down, 
But how about those wheels when mounting 
up?] 
Enter — from the Chapel — Columbus. 
Diego. Ah, here he comes to argue for himself. 
{rising and extending his hand to Columbus.) 
Good-day. 
Columbus {aside). What! you here? 
Diego {aside to Columbus). Yes, but no one 
knows 
We two are brothers. Better so, perhaps. 
Columbus. I see — can help me more. 
James {rising and greeting Columbus). 

The Captain! Welcome. 
{introducing Columbus.) 
Permit — Seniora Correo — Seniorita 
Felipa Perestrello — the Archdeacon 
Fonseca, Senior Breviesca — Captain 
Correo — sailor of experience. 

{All rise and how to Columbus.) 
Columbus {to ladies and Correo). It gives me 

joy to meet you. 
Correo. Shall we sit? 

{All sit from left to right in this order : Colum- 
bus, Diego, Dona Correo, Correo, 
Felipa, James, Breviesca, and Fon- 
seca.) 
James. You come here every day, I take it ? 



COLUMBUS. 151 

Columbus. Almost. 

James. Are making up for time you lost at 

sea? 
Columbus. Yes, making up and mounting up. 
Hike 
The uplift of the services. 
James {to Fonseca). There, there, 

Archdeacon, one point scored against your- 
self! 
Dull not the blade that carves at your own 

feast, {to Columbus in explanation.) 
Oh, nothing serious! — an argument 
About good churchmen and enthusiasts. 
Columbus. I see — and me. Yet men were 
told to preach 
The truth to all the world. 

{to Fonseca.) You think it done? 

No, no; I am no mere enthusiast. 
Breviesca. And yet would sail across the un- 
known sea. 
Columbus. I would. 

Breviesca. But that 

Columbus. I have good reasons for. 

Fonseca. And where, pray, do you find them ? 
Columbus. Everywhere — 

Without a single fact against them. 
Breviesca. Ha, 

Without a single fact ! 
Columbus. Well, name one, then. 



152 COLUMBUS. 

Breviesca. Enough for me, if one could cross 
the sea. 
We should have found it out. 
[Columbus. So? — How? 

Diego (/o Breviesca). No, no; 

The world has had too many men like you. 
FoNSECA. And well for its own good ! If lands 
were there, 
The Lord would let us know it.] 
Columbus. There are lands 

Men have not known. 
FoNSECA. And that would make you brave 
The blazing waves, and have your ship burned 
up? 
Columbus. Ten years ago, the waters just 
beyond 
Cape Bojador were said to burn thus; now 
Men sail them, far as Cape de Vere. 
Felipa. Is true. 

Columbus. And they return with branches, 
leaves and flowers 
That float from further west; and you have 

read 
The ancients? 
Breviesca. Yes, about Atlantis, yes; 

But that was lost. — Yet easily found, you 

think. 
I grant it — found by sinking. 
Fonseca. Ha, well said! 



COLUMBUS. 153 

Columbus. Oh, there are other tales! Late 
travelers too, 

Like Marco Polo and John Mandeville 

FoNSECA. Now pardon me; but stick, man, to 
your text. 

It was of facts that you began to speak 

Columbus. And that which gives them value. 
Breviesca. Fancies, eh? 

Columbus. Not fact-full only, but a mind that 
you 
Deem fanciful is needed, would a man 
Put this and that together, and build up 
The only structure that can make his facts 
Worth knowing. 
James {rising, as do the others). True as gospel 
that! But now 
I must be going, {to Columbus.) 

You will come with me? — 
Another map — I would explain. Besides, 
Prince Henry will be there to-day. 
Breviesca {to Columbus). And he 

Would let you sail your ship up to the moon. 
Were he not in it. 
FoNSECA {to Breviesca). Good! I like you, 
man. 
[You have some sense. 
Correo {aside, to James). The Prince believes 

in him? 
James. If not in him, at least in enterprise. 



154 COLUMBUS. 

Columbus {to James). Is just the meeting I 
had prayed to have. 
Too good in you to further it! — will come.] 
CoRREO {to Columbus). And we shall see you 

soon at our home too ? 
Breviesca {to Fonseca). At their home — 

what ? that madman, and not us ? 
Columbus {to Correo). I keep quite busy and 

have little time 

Felipa {to Columbus). But we have maps my 
father made; and these 
You might find helpful. 
Columbus {to Felipa). Thank you. I will come. 

Good-day. 
[Felipa and Dona Correo. Good-day. 
(Columbus and James exchange hows with all.) 
Exeufit — Left — Columbus and James. 
Correo {to Felipa and Dona Correo) . But we 
too must be going. 

They bow to those that are left behind them. 
Exeunt — Right — Correo, Felipa and 
Dona Correo, followed by Fonseca. 
Diego {to Breviesca). Ah, Senior Breviesca, 
even here 
Enthusiasm has been king to-day; — 
Within a single hour thrown wide apart 
The palace bars, and parlor doors that 

guard 
The prettiest girl in Portugal. 



COLUMBUS. 155 

Breviesca. Oh, yes! 

But wait you till the end come. 
Diego. In the end, 

As the beginning, nothing thrives but spirit. 

If trusted, it survives too, every time. 

A prince 

Breviesca. Is mortal 



Diego. Is a lord of earth ; 

And on the earth he sometimes has the power 
To make a man immortal. 
Breviesca. Humph! How strange 

You like that egotist — insufferable ! 
Diego. Why, no. The insufferable is you — 
I mean to him. He dreams of destiny. 
His whole soul in his work. That soul speaks 

out 
And like a sovereign. Souls are sovereign 
always. 
Breviesca. One's destiny you think, is made 

by talk? 
Diego. One's destiny was never yet fulfilled 
By one whose coward conscience dared not give 
Expression to the spirit that inspired it. 
Exeunt — Right — Breviesca and Diego.] 

Scene Second. — A Parlor i?i the house of Doxa 
Correo and Felipa at Lisbon. Felipa and 
an elderly Chaperon sit working in the rear. 
Entrances at Right and Left. 



156 COLUMBUS. 

Enter — Right — Dona Correo in an outdoor 

dress as in the First Act. 
Felipa. I feared that you would not be back. 
Our Captain 

Columbus will be here to-day. They say 

No doubt that he will get the ships. 
D. Correo. I doubt it. 

Felipa. Prince Henry promised him 

D. Correo. The Prince is ill. 

Yet, could I, I should like to stay with you. 

Give my excuses, please — ay, ay, and yours. — 

Breviesca too is coming. 
Felipa. That man, humph! 

D. Correo. We all accept the suit. 
Felipa. Except the one 

That should be suited. 
[D. Correo. Whom we all so trust. 

We trust her wisdom also, {kissing Felipa.) 

With the Captain 

Be not too cordial. 
Felipa. Not too cordial? 

D. Correo. No. 

Cordialities that make the backward friends 

But tempt the forward to presumption. Force, 

Alive to clear its own approaches, flouts 

A welcome meant for weakness. 
Felipa. He is forward? 

D. Correo. A civil man enough! — But then 
they say 



COLUMBUS. 157 

Felipa. The one that everybody's bid can bind 

Is everybody's bondsman. 
D. CoRREO. But I know 

The neighbors 

Felipa. And I know myself. The wise 

Make self the mistress of their choice, I think. 

D. CoRREO. Now, now, fair play! Fair play 

in argument, 

Will catch our thoughts before it throws them 

back. 
They call him flighty. 
Felipa. So are birds — and so 

Are — angels 

D. CoRREO. What? 

Felipa. And every kind of life 

Above the common.] 
D. Correo. Why, my girl! 

One might suppose 

{looking toward the window at the right.)) 

But see! He comes. Iga.. 

Be on your guard — and think. Good-bye.. 

{kissing her.) 

Exit — Left — Dona Correo. 

Felipa {to her Chaperon). And think? — 

I need that caution? — when this beaker all 

{placing her hand on her heart.) 
Is brimming to its overflow? — And think? — 
When all my thoughts are radiant with hisj 
form 



158 COLUMBUS. 

Like surging sea-waves glancing back the 
sun? — 
Enter — Right — Columbus carrying a roll of maps. 
(Felipa signals her Chaperon to retire.) 
Exit — Left — the Chaperon. 
{to Columbus) Good-day to you. 
Columbus. Good-day: was good enough 

For me before you called it so. 
Felipa. With all 

Your disappointments? — It is true! Prince 

Henry 

Columbus. Has promised all I wish. I shall 

succeed. 
{They sit together on the sofa, while Columbus 

hands her the maps.) 
Felipa. Thank God! 

Columbus. Ay, ay! Oh, I have sailed in 
nights, 
Dark nights, and prayed to heaven for one 

small star 
To guide me. Now it sends the Prince and 
you. 
Felipa {unrolling the maps and looking at one). 

You do me too much honor. 
Columbus. Could I? Nay; 
A soul that summons all that does one's best 
To do still better, sits upon a throne 
Than which none higher is conceivable. 
Pelipa. I was not conscious 



COLUMBUS. 159 

Columbus. Nay, nor is a child 

Of aught in her of movement or of form, 
That, fitting sweet ideals of loveliness. 
Makes fancied grace and beauty visible. 
Felipa {looking down at the map). And yet, I 

had not thought my father's maps 

Columbus. Ay, they confirm twice over all my 
plan — 
Not they alone, but your directions with 
them. 
Felipa. Mine? {sittmg with one hand restiiig 

071 the map.) 
Columbus. Yes, your fingers pointing out the 
course. 
It all is there, just there beneath your hand. 
A sailor steers the way his compass points. 
Felipa {looking down at her hand on the map) . 

Is that your compass? 
Columbus. It might compass me — 

I mean my soul. 
Felipa. That little hand? Oh, what 

A little soul ! 
Columbus. Do souls have size? One might 
Be universed in this; yet not contained 

{pointing to her hand.) 
In all the universe outside of it. 
Felipa. To put your soul thus in another's 
hand, — 
Would that be wise? 



l6o COLUMBUS. 

Columbus. Why not? — the hand that serves 
The soul one loves may serve but selfishly, 
And yet serve best the one who trusts to it. 
Felipa. But should it fetter him ? — 
Columbus. Then would he thrill 

In every atom of his frame to feel 
Its fingers' throb and pressure. 
Felipa. Would not bound 

Away? 
Columbus. Away and up, but always back 
again, 
Like grains of sand in earthquakes. 
Felipa. Foolish man ! 

Columbus. Why, only God is wholly wise ; and I 
Am but a man — so never quite so manly 
As when — why, say — made foolish. 
Felipa {rising, as does also Columbus). 

Some one combes . 
Enter — Right — a Servant, bringing a note. 
Felipa. A note for me — from whom ? — 
{opening and reading the note.) 
Exit — Right — Servant. 

Can this be true? 
Bad news for us! Oh very, very bad! — 
The Prince is dead. 
Columbus. Prince Henry? What? — No, no! 
Felipa. It must be so. You see who sent it — 
look. 
{handing the note to Columbus, ivho reads it.) 



COLUMBUS. I6l 

Columbus. Impossible! Heaven cannot be 
malicious ! 

What? build so high a structure for my hope, 

Then knock the prop from under? All, all 
gone ? 
Felipa. There may be others. 
Columbus. May be? — There are none. 

Felipa. But you have me still. 
[Columbus. That is it. We must 

Forget all this — at least for years and years. — 

Oh, I know what it means! — have seen years 
like them. 
Felipa. Forget all this? 
Columbus. You do not understand. ]■ 

Prince Henry was my patron. Backed by 
him, 

Success was possible; I felt I trod 

An equal plane with others of your suitors. 

[I now am worse off than a beggar. 
Felipa. No ! 

You have your pencil — still can draw 

Columbus. Yet not 

The outlines I had hoped — of that new land. 

And you, its princess. No; there looms a 
face 

With more care-lines upon its wrinkled brow 

Than e'er I blacked a map with. 
Felipa. There are ships 

That still need captains. 



1 62 COLUMBUS. 

Columbus. Could one see their sails 

Like arms, white-surpliced, praying heaven 

for wind, 
Yet keep his prow still turned away from 

that 
Which he had vowed to heaven that he would 
seek?] 
Felipa. But you can wait — you are so strong! 

— can wait 

[Columbus. I can — but you — when lit by hope, 
rebuffs 
Are merely clouds aglow where dawn brings 

Hght. 
But when no ray of hope is visible, 
The dark seems full damnation. 
Felipa. You say this ? — ] 

I thought 

Columbus. Oh, I! — yes, I can wait forever. 
The light is in me. But could you see through 
These forms that cloak it, worse than worst of 

rags, 
Discourtesy, suspicion and contempt 
Of those who know Columbus as the fool ? 

Felipa. Why 

Columbus. No, deny it not. I know it, feel 
it. 
Your mother, sister, brother — yes, I grant 
They tolerate me ; but when patronless 
And penniless, it were a different tale. 



COLUMBUS. 163 

Pelipa. Nay, nay; that cannot be! But they 
with me 

Will feel how noble is a man like you 

Columbus. A pauper and fanatic 

Felipa. No, a man 

Who all alone, can stand with but one friend, 
His own brave soul, and trample underfoot 
A hissing world that, coiling like a snake. 
Would clutch him to its clod and hold him 
there. 
Columbus. Too much! To-day you think it, 
but to-morrow — 

Next year — in ten years No, I have no 

right 
To put you to the test. No, let me go — 
Farewell. 
Felipa. Will you fare quite as well without me ? 
Columbus. Felipa, nay, it cannot be. 
Felipa. You think 

A woman's heart, if tested through long years 
With burdening love, would break? You 

think it kinder 
To break it at the start ? 
Enter — Right — Breviesca shown in hy a 
Servant. 
Columbus {not observing Breviesca). Felipa, 
no — 
A faith like yours — my God, what shall I do? 
I would not harm you, yet have done the harm. 



1 64 COLUMBUS. 

Breviesca {sarcastically to the two). Ah, so! — 

I see I come too late — 
Felipa {aside, anxiously to Columbus) . Except 

For one thing! 
Columbus {to Breviesca). Yes — we are be- 
trothed. 
Exit, with sarcastic how — Right — Breviesca. 
Curtain. 

Scene Third. — The same as in Scene Second, 
now the home of Columbus. Maps and 
charts are hanging on the walls, and lying o?i a 
large table at the Back Center; also hooks, i?i- 
struments for navigation, and implements for 
measuring and drawing. A window at the Right, 

Entrances at the Right and Left. 

Enter — Right — a Maid and a Woman, followed 
hy other Women. 

Woman. Is he at home? 

Maid. Not now. 

Woman. What seems he doing? 

[Maid. Oh, just the same as ever! 

Woman. Nothing eh ? 

{to the other Women who have remained near the 
door.) 
Come in. {to Maid) 

We thought that we should like to see ] 

{handling charts and implements on the table.) 

Maid. You really should not touch them. 



COLUMBUS. 165 

Woman. No ? Why not ? 

Maid. He would not like it. 

Woman. Oh, of course not ! but 

He need not know it; need he? — 
{poi7tting to a chart.) 

What a blotch! 

Maid. A chart, you know. 

Woman. A chart? — A chart of what? 

I never saw a chart like that — looks like 
A crazy quilt. And so he wastes his time 
On things like these? — Felipa dying too! 
[No wonder ! — Think of it ! — Ten mortal years 
Of this, and no one knows what more. At 

night, 
I would not dare to stay alone with him. 
Would you? — say, would you? 

Maid. Why ! I — no — he never 

Woman. Of course not. You would be afraid, 
of course. 
I had a cousin once who went insane. 
And all his family had to play insane 
To keep him company. The sport was royal 
Till, sure that he was royal and they slaves, 
He ordered off their heads. 

Maid. And then? 

Woman. And then 

They left off playing, and made war on him; 
And so dethroned him. They should do so 
here ; 



1 66 COLUMBUS. 

The sooner, too, the better! Look at this:] 

{taking up a sharp instrument.) 
Not safe in hands like his ! 

{knocking at the door at the Right.) 

Hark! What is that? 
Can it be he? Say, you can let us out 

{starting for the Left.) 
The other door, not so? 
Maid. No need of that ! 

Is no one but the tailor. 
Woman. Sure of it? 

{crossing the room and looking out the window at 

the Right.) 
[Maid. Comes every day. 
Woman. What for? 

Maid. To bid us think 

Of Adam's fall that made men civilized. 
Wear clothes, and bear the curse of paying 
for them.] 

{opening the door at the Right.) 
Enter — Right — Tailor, to whom she speaks. 
Is out. 
Tailor. Oh, yes, I know — is always out — 

Out of his head at least. Were he but out 
My clothes, it would be better. — Left no word? 
Maid. He bade me say that he expects the 

king 

[Tailor. If all the kings that are expected 
came. 



COLUMBUS. 167 

Few would be left for subjects. I will strip 
And cage his bareness for a jail-show. Ugh! 

AIaid. But, really, he is honest. He expects ] 

Enter — Right — suddenly, the Grocer. 
Grocer. Tell him his expectations are too old. 
Fresh expectations, like fresh eggs, may hatch. 
Not so with stale ones, though, however 
white. 
Woman {turning from the window at the Right, 
where she has been looking out, and gazing at 
the Grocer). 
The grocer, eh? {speaking to the other women.) 

And all the family 
Are coming — and the Captain too. I saw 

them. — 

Will be a scene here. I prefer the background. 

Exit — Left — Woman , followed by the other Women. 

[Tailor {to Grocer) . Suppose we club together 

— ay, let fly 

Our blows at him together — down him sooner !] 

Grocer {to Maid, and holding a paper toward 

her). I cannot fill this order. 
Maid. But you must. 

His wife is needing it. 
Grocer. But I myself 

Cannot afford a wife 

Tailor. When keeping his. 

Enter — Right — Dona Correo and Correo push- 
ing Felipa in a chair upon wheels. 



1 68 COLUMBUS. 

Maid (to Grocer). 

His wife is ill. You would not let her die? 
Grocer. Not I, but he; and there are other 

shops 

Maid. But we have tried them all. 

Grocer. Then try the jail. 

They feed men there, — or let him sell 

Dona Correo {bowing to Grocer). You 

say? 
Grocer {pointing toward the charts and imple- 
ments on the table). He ought to sell 
these things and pay us off. 
Dona Correo. Not paid you yet? Oh, well, 

you may be right ! 
Felipa {to D. Correo). They may be right? 

Why, this would ruin him. 
Dona Correo {to Felipa) . Not outside things 
that men can take aw^ay 
Bring ruin, but the things that stay within, 
Which would they could take ! 

{to Grocer and Tailor.) 

He himself is coming. 
Enter — Right — Columbus. 
Columbus {to Grocer and Tailor). You 

seek for me? 
Tailor {holding his bill toward Columbus). I 

brought your bill. 
Grocer. And I. 
Tailor. We say an honest man 



COLUMBUS. 169 

Columbus {motioning toward Felipa). But not, 
please, now. 
My wife is ill. 
Tailor {pointing toward the table). We say — 
your sister too — 
[An honest man would sell these traps; not 

let 
His creditors go begging. 
Grocer. Ay, or come so. 

{appealing to Felipa.) 
You think it too. {to Columbus.) 

You see it in her face. 
Tailor {to Grocer). Oh, he sees nothing! 
Give one's brain a whack. 
It flies from earth to stars — but all in here. 
{pointing to his head.) 
Columbus {referring to the implements on the 
table) . These are the tools I work with — 
all of them. 
Grocer. Humph, they work poorly, better give 
them up ! 

Columbus. The king 

Tailor. For ten years we have heard of him. 
Columbus. Your bill is only three months 

old. 
Tailor. Yes; this one. 

Columbus. The present king has not been on 
the throne. 
But 



170 COLUMBUS. 

Grocer. All kings are the same to us — as you 
Will find. 

Columbus. You need but wait 

Tailor. Have learned that lesson.] 

Columbus. My brothers will be here to-day. 
Tailor. And they? 

Columbus. Will bring me proofs of favor at 

the court. 
Tailor. If so? 

Columbus. Why, they will bring me what will 
pay 
A score of times and more your paltry bills. 
What say you? 
Grocer {to Tailor). Shall we wait? Fact is, 
one finds 
It hard to break old habits. Shall we, eh? 
(Tailor hows in acquiescence. Grocer continues 
to Columbus.) 
But see we get what balances our claim, 
Or we shall weigh these things against them 

yet, {pointing to the table.) 
And sell them too by weight. 

Exeunt — Right — Grocer afid Tailor. 
Columbus. No doubt they will. 

Too often in the judgments of this world 
Worth yields to weight. 
Dona Correo. A scandal and disgrace — 

A scene like this in my own sister's house! 
Felipa. Why, sister, when the king 



COLUMBUS. 171 

Dona Correo. Oh, dear, you know- 

That talk is fiction, like the most things 
here. 
Felipa. But yet the king took interest in his 
charts, 
And sent for them. 
Correo. Ay, ay, and found out so — • 

Quite likely — that he cannot draw at all — 
Except from his own fancy. Who wants 

that? 
A visionary man produces visions; 
And in the world that is, men want what is. 
[Columbus. Why, brother, I am accurate. 
Dona Correo. Perhaps. 

Who knows it though? Yourself? If one 

besides. 
He too has made your own discoveries. 
And if no mortal knows it, all will judge 
By what they hear. What do they hear of 
you? 
Correo. Humph, I can tell, {to Columbus.) 

Forgive me; it is time 
You knew the truth. I thought, perhaps, to 

lease 
A ship that you could sail, — make money by, 

But 

Donna Carreo. Been too long from practice? 
Correo. No, no; worse! 

Dona Correo. Is but an idler, as they think? 



172 COLUMBUS. 

CoRREO. f Worse yet — 

One who should not be trusted, sure to do 
The wrong thing for the right. 
Columbus. And you say that ? 

CoRREO. Not I, but those that give you repu- 
tation. 
Columbus. Am I to blame? 
CoRREO. Who else is, pray? They say 

That you would sail but heaven alone knows 

where. 
And I confess, I half believe you would.] 
Felipa. Oh, brother! 

Columbus (aside to Correo). Cruel, talking 
thus to her! {to Felipa.') 
The other room will be far better, dear, 
Than this. And they? — they but exaggerate. 
They hurt my feelings? Oh, why, why, why, 

why. 
You never saw a fisher catch a fish 
Whose hook would not get tangled in the line. 
Just wait, and see me get the better of them. 
You trust in me. There. 

(gesturing to the Maid to wheel Felipa.) 

I am coming soon. 
Exeunt — Left — Maid wheeling Felipa in her 

chair. 
Dona Correo (to Correo). Quite right! — • 
The time has come to tell him truth. 
(to Columbus and gesturing toward Correo.) 



COLUMBUS. 173 

You think him cruel. What are you, your- 
self? {pointing toward the Left.) 

See what ten years of this have made of her? 

I come, and find her wanting everything — 

Food, physic — nearly dying at your hands. 
Columbus. Do not say that. 
Dona Correo. Humph ! It is time I did. 

Columbus. She still believes in me. 
Dona Correo. As infidels 

In their Mohammed, and are cursed for it. 
[Columbus. I think that you forget. How 
many men 

Of humble, foreign birth demand and get 

A summons to an audience with the king ? 

Say that of such importance that the king, 

To weigh it, calls his wisest counselors? 

Who argue it for days, with some, at least. 

That side with him whom you think stands 
alone ? 
Dona Correo. How many side with him? 
Columbus. Enough to make 

The king request his charts — the work of years 

That you think wasted. 
Dona Correo. That was months ago; 

And nothing followed. 
Columbus. There is too much life 

In truth of any sort, when sown, to doubt 

Its growing. I have made a good beginning. 
Dona Correo. A very small one. 



174 COLUMBUS. 

Columbus. So a seed is too, 

Whose growth is great. When one awaits the 

dawn, 
A flush is better than a flash, which oft 
But bodes a rush-Hght.] 
Enter— Left — the Maid, crosses the room, and 

opens the door at the Right. 
Enter — Right — Diego and Bartholomew, to 
whom Columbus now turns. 

Ah, they come at last! — 
My brothers, welcome ! 
Diego {io Columbus). So to you. 

{to Dona Correo and Correo.) And you. 
Bartholomew. And all. 

{All greet each other.) 
Exit— Left— the Maid. 
Columbus {to Diego). You bring me news? 
Diego. Ay, by and by. 

{glancing at Dona C. and Correo.) 
Columbus {to Dona C. and Correo). You will 

excuse us? 
Dona Correo. We will leave. 

Exeunt — Left — Dona C. and Correo.) 
Columbus {to Diego). This news? 

Diego {sadly). My brother, can you bear 

it? 
Columbus. I have borne 

With much. 
Diego. Yes, you have been misunderstood, 



COLUMBUS. 175 

Misjudged, maligned; but all were less than 
this. 

Columbus. How so? 

Bartholomew\ The king 

Columbus. He has not sent the money? 

B ARTHOLOMEW . The money ? 

Columbus. Yes, his agent promised it. 

Bartholomew. We had not thought you cared 
so much for that. 

Columbus. Not I, but these — my wife, my 
family. 
The king sent here requesting all details. 
It took me weeks to draft them, had to turn 
My methods upside down and inside out. 
And mass and multiply and magnify, 
Till truth was large enough for all to see it. 
Meantime, what gaze had I to fix upon 
My earnings? They all fled, and now 

Diego. I see. 

No watch-dog keeps a creditor at bay 
Like well-housed earnings. — But we heard no 

talk 
Of pay. 

Columbus. When it was clearly promised? — 
what? 
[Then I, who trusted in the royal word 
And gave it currency, am made for this 
A charlatan who trades upon a cheat ?] 

Diego. And worse. He holds your charts. 



176 COLUMBUS. 

Columbus. He keeps them? — Why — 

With truth, the longer kept, the longer 

thought of; 
And thinking feeds conviction. On my soul, 
The king will let me sail yet. You shall see. 

Bartholomew. Oh no, not you ! 

Columbus. Not me, not me? — and why? 

Diego. My brother, all your draughts, your 
work for years 
Rest like a charter in another's hands. 
That other is the pilot of a ship 
Now sailing west ; and his head is decreed 
To wear the wreath for what your own con- 
ceived. 

Columbus. Impossible! 

Diego. I tell the truth. 

Columbus. His name? 

Diego. A secret — but no cowardly soul like 
his 
Will ever cross the sea. 

Columbus. I could prefer 

He should, than by a failure earn my scheme 
Discredit. 

Diego. Which he surely will. 

Columbus. Too true! 

[Diego. Oh, curse the king! 

Columbus. But could you have conceived 

Such baseness ? 

Diego. Why ask me? Am I the devil?! 



COLUMBUS. 177 

Columbus. What reasons could he have? 
Diego. Enough of them 

In such a world! — You, you have genius, 

brains ; 
And those without them must get even with 

you. 
If not by higher then by lower means. 
You are original and they derived; 
And thought full-centered in itself, owns not 
A parentage that puts another first. 
And you are foreign, they are Portuguese. 
Columbus. But such dishonor in a king! 
Diego. Why not? 

A king is human; place is relative; 
Down honor, and you boost dishonor up. 
Make men in common kneel, and common men 
Stand up like giants. Banish out of sight 
The bright minds, and the dull ones beam 

like beacons. 
{A knocking is heard at the Right Entrance.) 
Enter — Left — the Maid. 
Maid. My master? 
Columbus (to the Maid). Well? 
Maid. Your wife desires to see 

you. 
Columbus. I come; but there is knocking at 
the door. 

Exit — Right — the Maid. 
(Columbus continues to his brothers.) 



1 78 COLUMBUS. 

If she were not so ill now, I should leave 
This Portugal forever. 
Bartholomew. Yes; you should. 

Columbus. There certainly is elsewhere enter- 
prise 
With honesty. I think that I should try 
The court of England. You have seen their 

men: — 
White skinned, the spirit just behind the face, 
Their very faults the proof they are not false; 
Too impudent for truthlessness, too bold 
To stab behind one's back, too proud of push 
To trip with little tricks, too fond of sport 
To keep one down, when down. 
Bartholomew. Why, I might go there. 

Columbus. You might and would, Bartholo- 
mew? 
Bartholomew. I wilL 

Enter — Right — the Maid. 
Columbus {to Maid). A visitor? 
Maid. A message from the king. 

Diego. We thought it coming. Now you are 

prepared. 
Columbus. My soul demands in one whom I 
obey 
A moral equal, at the least. It comes 
In vain, {to the Maid.) 
And messengers ? 
Maid. Yes. 



COLUMBUS. 179 

Columbus. Show them in. 

Exit — Right — Maid. The eyes of Colum- 
bus follow her, and look through the 
door, which she leaves ajar. 
Breviesca? He alone makes both of them 
Birds of most evil omen. 
Enter — Right — Breviesca, a Companion, afid 
the Maid, who exits at the Left. All bow. 

Gentlemen? — 
And will you sit ? 

{He motions towards seats. Their manner 
indicates refusal, and they remain 
standing.) 
Breviesca. I thank 3^ou, no. The king 

Sends here requesting you to visit him. 
Columbus. Requesting me to visit him ? For 

what? 
Breviesca. Your charts. — He would examine 

them with you. 
Columbus. With what intent? 

Breviesca. To satisfy you 

Columbus. Me? 

[Why, I am satisfied remaining here. 
Breviesca. But he demands your presence. 
Columbus. He demands? 

Ah, not for my sake, — but for his, you come.] 
He sends me then the means with which to go? 
Breviesca. How so? 
Columbus. The money ? or conveyance? 



l8o COLUMBUS. 

Breviesca. What? 

Columbus. I need the one or other. 
Diego. Certainly. 

Breviesca. But when the king demands 

Columbus {in a hesitating way) . He promised me 

A sum of money for my charts. I thought — 
Breviesca. You dare dispute the royal will? 
Columbus. I dare 

Do nothing to impugn the royal honor. 
Enter — Left — tJie Maid, evidently in distress. 
Maid. My master? 
Columbus. Why, what is it? 

Maid. She — seems — dying. 

Columbus. What, what? my wife? 

{He starts for the door at the Left — Breviesca 
makes a gesture of disapprovaL) 
Breviesca. Give us your answer first. 

Columbus. You press this now? 
Breviesca. We represent the king. 

Do you forget that he must be supreme ? 
Columbus. I do in presence of a Higher King. 

Oh, what has happened? 

Exeunt — Left — Columbus and the Maid. 
Breviesca {bowing sarcastically to Diego and 
Bartholomew). What we shall report. 

Exeunt — Right — Breviesca and his Com- 
panion. 
[Bartholomew {starting to call Breviesca hack). 

Ah, Diego, if the king excuse this yet 



COLUMBUS. I8l 

Diego. His creditors who hear of it will not. 
{pointing toward the Left.) 
If she be flown, I fear we all must fly. 
Bartholomew. But why should he so suffer ! — 
I half think 
In truth to spirit there is that which makes 
All earth its enemy. 
Diego. Yet conquers it. 

Exeunt — Right — Bartholomew and Diego.] 



Curtain. End of Act I. 



ACT SECOND. 

Scene First: — A Spanish camp by night, lighted 
up by distant camp-fires. Backing at the Left 
a gateway into a plaza reserved for royalty. 
At the Right, the tent of Columbus, its curtains 
drawn aside revealing a cot or loimge on which 
two or more can sit, also a chair or two. Just 
outside the same tent on the side toward the center 
of the stage is a log on which two or more can sit. 
To the Left of the stage are trees. Entrances 
at the Left Center through the royal gateway; at 
the Right, behind the tent of Columbus; also 
through his tent and between his tent and the 
audience; and at the Left, Rear and Front, 
through trees. 

Enter — Right, from behind the tent of Columbus 
— a Moor with a Companion. 

[Moor {to his Companion). Darkness for deeds 
of darkness ! Thank the stars, 
We well nigh touch the queen's pavilion ; ^'Ct 
In all this Christian camp, blood-red as life, 
Not one suspects the Moor — this heathen 
worm 

182 



COLUMBUS. 183 

Who wriggles toward its core. Her tent! — 
steal in ! 
{addressing his steel dirk as he looks at it, then 
lifts it upward.) 
Be that our motto: Steel in, till we start. 
The spirit of the queen, steel it away ! 
Hark! — some one comes here. Let us hide. — 
Aha! 

{looks around, then apparently the two hide 
in the folds of the canvas at the Back 
of the tent of Columbus.) 
Convenient folds these! — Thank you, Chris- 
tian friends.] 
Enter — Left-Rear — a Sentry, and guards the 

gateway. 
Exeunt — Right — behind the tent of Columbus — 

the Moor and his Companion. 
Enter — Right — through this tent, Diego and 
Columbus, dressed as a soldier. 
{The two are at first inside the tent ; hut, as 
they talk, they gradually come out onto 
the stage in front of it.) 
Columbus. Have heard from England and 

Bartholomew? 
Diego. I have. 
Columbus. He had success ? 
Diego. They thought us 

fools. 
And how fared you in Genoa and Venice? 



1 84 COLUMBUS. 

Columbus. They knew we were. I half be- 
Heve that flight 
Was all that saved me from a mad-house. [Oh, 
The world plays tyrant to the soul would 

serve it. 
It treats him like a female relative 
Whose drudgery is deemed supremely paid 
By her own love. But when the wage one 

wants 
Is not within one, love is never paid.] 
Diego. Yes, 3^es ; I fear that we must give it up. 
Columbus. My voyage? 
Diego. Yes. 

Columbus. Not till I die; and that 

I will do soon as hope dies out of me. 
Diego. You have enlisted? 
Columbus. It will help me on. 

Men judge of us by standards in themselves; 
And so like us when they see us like them. 
Kings take to tales, too, writ with points like 
this — 
{pointing, with a gesture, to Ids sword.) 
To underscore "your humble servant" when 
He signs requests. 

Enter — Left — two young Officers. They 
stand looking at Columbus and 
Diego, making signs to indicate that 
they consider Columbus out of his 
mind. Columbus notices them. 



COLUMBUS. 185 

Diego. And have you met the king? 

Columbus. Am waiting for a chance 

Diego. It promises? 

What seem your prospects? 
Columbus {pointing to the officers). 

Watch those men and see. 
We ape sign-language here. Theirs means 

"Columbus." 
The women, children, all have learned it, too. 
And point it now and then with exclamations. 
Diego {glancing angrily at the men). Outra- 
geous! I will stop them. 
Columbus {staying him with his hand). Why, 
what use? 
Far better have men point at us and laugh, 
Than never have them point to us at all. 
Diego. Do you say this, who were so sensitive, 
High-spirited? 

Exeunt — Left — Officers. 
Columbus. One may have so much sense 

It holds the spirit down. Besides, our spheres 
Are stagnant and need movement. Make 

men take 
You gravely if you can; if not, what though 
They laugh? You move them that way. 

There are times 
The tiniest tinklings that can tap the air 
Ring up life's curtain for its grandest acts. 
Diego. You talk as if all friends were lost. 



1 86 COLUMBUS. 

Columbus. Nay, light, 

It trails the shadow. It is those with friends 
Are sure of foes ; and only those with neither 
Are sure of neither. 

Diego. Then you have friends ? 

Columbus. Yes. 

Diego. What class of people? 

Columbus. Oh, both Dukes and Dons; 

And, to make life complete, at least one woman. 

Diego. Aha! 

Columbus. The image of my lost Felipa. 

Diego. You mean to marry her? 

[Columbus. Had I the wish 

I could not have the will. Her family 
Are not agreeable 

Diego. To you? 

Columbus. To her, 

When seen with me ; and — well ! — enough 
For one man to have sacrificed one woman 
To appease what he esteems as God. 

Diego. How so? 

Columbus. A woman craves attention and a 
home. 
Her lover's mission, let it oft withdraw 
His ear or sphere from her, seems then her rival. 

Diego. It would not, did she love the man's 
true self. 

Columbus. Perhaps, — and yet the kinds of 
love men feel 



COLUMBUS. 187 



For mistress and for mission are so like !- 



What, if behind the mission's love should be 

Some sentient spirit too in realms unseen ? 

These women may be right. They may have 
rivals. 

But what Felipa felt I could not help. 

Yet may avoid its repetition. 
Diego {doubtfully) . Humph !] 

Columbus. This one is but a sister, name more 
sacred 

Than wife, I think, as wives go now. 
Diego. She thinks 

This too? 
Columbus. She should, and you? 
Diego. I think, perhaps, 

You ought to marry. 
Columbus. Oh no ! I have vowed 

Religiously — 
Diego. And might not be the first 

Religion led astray. 
[Columbus. Astray! how so? 

Diego. A brotherly or sisterly regard 

Grows up from family relationship. 

Train boys and girls together, side by side, 

As in one loyal household, holding all 

Humanity, and then, perchance, may love's 
dishonor 

Seem foul as incest, and imperilers of it, 

No longer vehicles of life humane. 



1 88 COLUMBUS. 

Unsouled of self-control, all flag themselves 
The death-trucks that they are, and make 

health scud 
From their contagion as from carrion. 

Columbus. You mean 

Diego. The young are not so trained in Spain — 
Not schooled to know each other, soul by soul ; 
And nothing but the soul can outweigh sense. 

Columbus. In general, true! — but she 

Diego. Our lives reflect 

The light of our surroundings. What are 

here ? — 
Accursed customs that mistrust the soul, 
Ay, robe its every feature in their rags. 
Draped all to hint unshapeliness beneath. 
Away with earthly habits that can hide 
God's image framed within!] 

Enter — Left — tJie Monk, Juan Perez, 
another Monk, the officer Sanchez, 
and several Soldiers. 
Columbus {looking toward the Monk). Why, 

who are these? 
Perez {to Columbus). 

God greet you friends. 
Columbus. His messengers are welcome. 

Perez. And doubly so if from Jerusalem? 
Columbus. The holy city? 
Perez. Yes. The grand Soldan 

Of Egypt sent us. 



COLUMBUS. 189 

Columbus. With a message? 

Perez. Yes. 

He vows, in case the Spaniard will not stay 
This war against the Moor, to rouse the East, 
Pull down all Christian churches, and beneath 
Entomb their worshipers. 

Columbus. He thinks this threat 

Will influence Ferdinand? 

Sanchez. It should not. 

Soldier. No. 

Columbus. But must the faithful suffer? 

Perez. They do now. 

At each pretext oppressed, reviled, and robbed 
Of property and freedom, flayed and hung. 
And heaven knows what; for it gets most of 
them. 

[Sanchez. That should not be. 

Perez. Ah, when what should be is. 

What is will be beyond this earth. 

Sanchez. When once 

Old Spain's white line of ships have tailed for 

good 
This flying kite here of the Moor, and cleared 
The blue about us, there should rest no ship 
Not steered to right our brethren there. 

Soldier. Not one. 

Perez {to Sanchez). Would you go? 

Sanchez. Ay, I would. 

Perez. The time may come 



190 COLUMBUS. 

Sanchez {to Soldiers). 

Meanwhile, the Moor! Now, to your sta- 
tions — march.] 
Exeunt — Lejt — Sanchez and Soldiers. 
Diego {glancing at the Monks, and speaking 
aside to Columbus). 
They seek the king — might speak for you, not 
so? 
Columbus {to Diego). They might. 

{To the Monks.) Would you not rest with 
us to-night ? 
Perez. We thank you — and your name? 

{The Monks and Diego, as Columbus 
gestures to them, enter the tent of 
Columbus and sit. Columbus sits 
on the log to the left of his tent with 
his hack to the rear.) 
Columbus. Columbus. 

Perez. Oh! 

Have heard of you. 
Columbus. Heard good? 

Perez. Why — 

Columbus. Ah, have not. 

I understand. The silence of the good 
Damns more than bad men's curses. Yet 

my aims 
Are one with yours — to speed the truth to 

all. 
But "all" means more than most men deem. 



COLUMBUS. 191 

Perez. The wise 

Aim not beyond their reach. 
Columbus. The faithful aim 

Wherever they are called. 
Perez. You heard the call 

Just made? 
Columbus. And not a breast could out-thrill 
mine 

With indignation at the tale. 
Perez. It failed 

To stir your lip to pledges. 
Columbus. When heaven crowns 

My present plan 

Perez. You will be like your mates, — 

Ennobled, rich, and found a family. 
Columbus. My western mission is for Christ 
alone. 

Pray heaven with me that I fulfill it; then 

I vow to live a life like yours, and more — 

To give it to this Eastern mission. See — 
{drawing his sword and showing the cross form- 
ing its hilt.) 

This cross — it aims the sword I wield! — will 
find 

No final rest, till waved above the crescent. 
Perez. You seem a holy man. 
Columbus. Nay, none is that. 

When men seem holy do not think of 
them, 



192 COLUMBUS. 

But of the cause that has affected them. 

Exit — Left Rear — the Sentry guarding the 

gateway, apparently called away. 
Enter — Left Center, from the gateway — 
Beatrix. She comes forward stealthily 
and touches Columbus on his hack, 
then withdraws toward the Right Rear, 
behind his tent. 
(Columbus rises, looking back and around as if 

for Beatrix.) 
Perez {to the other Monk). He seems inspired 
by purposes well worth 
Regard. 
Columbus {to Diego). Diego, will you guide 
our friends 
Across the pathway to our other tent? — 
One waits here who has business with me. 
Exeunt — Right — through the tent of Colum- 
bus, Diego and the two Monks. 
Enter — Right — from behind the same tent, 
Beatrix 
Columbus. You, Beatrix? and here? — this 
time of night? 

[Have you forgot? Your father 

Beatrix. Is a bird, 

Flown southward, wrong, forgetting for a time 
The winter whence it fled? 

Columbus. But there are ways 1 

Beatrix. I am not welcome then ? 



COLUMBUS. 193 

Columbus. Oh no — not that — 

[But unexpected. 
Beatrix. I have heard you say 

Good fortune would be so. 
Columbus. You bring it, then?] 

Beatrix. One door ajar to it. These worthy 
friars, 

Just in your tent, I hear, will see the king. 

They might commend you. 
Columbus. Yes, I thank you. 

Beatrix. Well? 

Columbus. More? 
Beatrix. You seem cold. 

Columbus. The night is. 

Beatrix. I am not. 

Columbus. No, no, forgive me. 
Beatrix. I have more to say. 

The Dona Bobadilla 

Columbus. Your old foe? 

Beatrix. New friend; for your sake made and 
kept a friend 

[By courtesies limbering my stiff limbs of pride 

Till limp and limping as humility. 

Columbus. But really 

Beatrix. Really, when one's inward sense 

Of mastership outweighs an outward show 

Of servitude, why, one but serves herself.] 

This Dona Bobadilla has in view 

To urge your claims upon the queen. 



194 COLUMBUS. 

Columbus. She has? — 

What is it makes a woman serve as you 
A mere enthusiast without success? 
Beatrix. No need were there to serve one with 
success. 

Columbus. But failure 

Beatrix. Shows a spirit as it is. 

It throws one's manhood into full relief, 
Stript of all circumstance and accident. 
Columbus. This heart of mine were heavy- 
were it not 
Made light and bright by eyes that can detect, 
Beneath all veils disguising what it is, 
Its one sole virtue. — You forget that all 
The world is full of brains, and all the brains 
Of whims, and all that gives the whims more 

worth 
Than blood that churns them up to con- 
sciousness, 
Is that they leave the brain and live in deeds. 
Mine have not done this yet. 
Beatrix {sitting on the log to the left of the tent 
of Columbus, and in doing so, letting the 
shawl that she has worn fall from her 
on to the ground behind the log. Colum- 
bus stands at the right, and after a little 
while sits beside her). 

The deed that best 
Proves each man's workmanship is what he is. 



COLUMBUS. 195 

If God be the eternal, he who shows 

Eternal perseverance falls not far 

From fellow-craft with Him. 
Columbus. You, like a myth, 

Are not inspired, but yet inspiring; not 

Religion, but could make a man religious. 
Beatrix. You speak in figures. 
Columbus. We all live in them. 

Beatrix. What then? 

Columbus. Why, they are beautiful. 

Beatrix. And this 

Gives life its beauty? 
Columbus. Ay, and interest. 

For every time a spirit veiled in them 

Reveals itself, why, it anticipates 

The resurrection of the soul, not so? 

And that brings heaven. 
Beatrix. Then to reveal myself 



Columbus. Is very much in such a world as 
this — 
When owning so much that is worth revealing. 
Beatrix. You jest. 

Columbus. I am in earnest. When one needs 
More strength of spirit, nothing save a spirit 
Can ever give it. You have given me 
yours. 
Beatrix. In truth I have. Not seldom I have 
thought 
That I could lose my soul to give it you. 



196 COLUMBUS. 

Columbus. Thank God, a brother's love need 
not accept 
The sacrifice. — But — should we linger here ? 

Your 

Beatrix. Well? 

Columbus. Your relatives — 

Beatrix. Of flesh, or soul? 

I care but for the latter. You 

Columbus. But yet 

Their reasons are the world's. We live in 

Spain. 
You are — 

Beatrix. A virgin, yes, but were I the 

Columbus. Do not say that — 

Beatrix. I could imagine times 

When one I know would seem divine. 
Columbus. Wait, wait! — 

How near together heaven and hell may be ! 
Beatrix. Yes; only earth and earthly thinking 
make 
It possible for sense to deem them two. 
Throne God in hell, all heaven would burst the 

gates 
And dream of blessed rest, though every foot 
Were sea'd upon a prostrate seething devil. 
Enter — Right — from behind Columbus' tent 
— the Moor. He looks at Columbus 
and Beatrix then begins to draw 
toward himself her shaivl that lies 



COLUMBUS. 197 

on the ground behind her. Columbus 
looks hack. The Moor draws away 
and wraps the shawl about himself. 
Columbus rises.) 
Beatrix. Some one was listening? 
Columbus. Yes — keep still. 

Exit — Left Center — through the gateway — 
the Moor. Columbus sees him. 

I see 
A form. It disappeared there through the 
gate. 
Beatrix, My shawl on? 
Columbus. Yes. 

Beatrix. Why, all the ladies' tents — 

The queen's — are reached through that. I 
follow. 
Columbus. No — 

A thief, — assassin, may be. No, let me — 
{advancing toward the gateway.) 
Beatrix {stopping him). Be thought a cul- 
prit ? — never ! 
Columbus {handing her a dirk.) Then take this, 
And call me. I will keep in hearing. — God! 
I cannot bear to let you go. 
Beatrix. I must. 

Exit — Left Center — through the gateway — 
Beatrix with the dirk in hand. 
Enter — Right — through Columbus' tent — 
Diego. 



198 COLUMBUS. 

Columbus {to Diego). You must have over- 
heard? 
Diego. I did — in part. 

[Columbus. How brave in her! Yet what 
could one expect ! 
How brave in her to let me know her love ! 
And what unnatural, unmanned man am I, 
Who does not, will not dare, return it her! 
Strange mixture life is of the right and 

wrong ! 
Should one be good, or kind? and which is 

which ? 
How much that seems in line for both is 

but 
A ray that falls to form a pathway here 
From the rent forms of clouds beyond our 

reach 
Which, while they let the light in, bring the 
storm !] 

{Distant Voices are heard calling.) 
Hark, hark!— What is it that they call?— 
Distant Voice. A Moor! 

Columbus. {Shouting) A Moor! {to Diego) 
You rouse the Camp ! 
Exit — Left Center — through the gateway — 
Columbus. 
Enter — Left Rear — the Sentry. 
Diego {shouting). A Moor! A Moor! 
Exit — Left — Diego. 



COLUMBUS. 199 

Enter — Left Front — and Exeunt — Left Center^ 
through the gateway — Sanchez and Sol- 
diers. 
Voices {from within the gateway). 

Ay, ay, take this and that. 
Enter— from the Gateway — Sanchez, Columbus, 

ayid Soldiers dragging the Moor. 
Sanchez. Here — drag him out I 

Is dead already — Humph ! — is limp enough 
To make a rug of ! Let him lie ! 
Enter — Left Rear — other Soldiers, the officer 

Gutierrez and the King. 
Gutierrez. The King. 

{All salute. The King looks at the Moor.) 
King. Who is he? 
Sanchez. An assassin — sought the queen — 

Got by the guard. 
King. He did not reach her? 

Sanchez. No. 

{pointing to Columbus). 
Well nigh ! He tracked him in, and thwarted 
him. 
King {to Columbus). Ay, ay! Your name? 
Columbus. Columbus. 

King {to all). Now to rest. 

{to Columbus.) 
But you may come with me — Would see you 
further. 
Exeunt — Left Center — through the gateway — 



200 COLUMBUS. 

King, Gutierrez, and Columbus. 
Exeunt at other entrances, all except the 
Sentry. 

CURTAIN 

Scene Second. — Council Chamber in the Do- 
minican Convent of St. Stephen at Salamanca. 
Wood paneling in ceiling and walls. A long 
table in the Rear with chairs beside it and at 
the rear. Entrances at the Right and Left. 
Enter — Left — Zalora and Fernandez. 

Fernandez. All here? 

Zalora. Oh yes. One must obey the king. 

Fernandez. He must suppose the times ahead 
are dark. 

Zalora. How so? 

Fernandez. In giving us this pastime here. 

Zalora. We have our holy days and holidays. 
I sometimes wonder which are holier. 

Fernandez. What, what! and you a priest? 

Zalora. An old one — yes. 

Like other earthly things, our lives move on 
Half light, half shadow, and with me 
The shadows came in youth. 

Fernandez. Your brilliancy 

Developed late, eh? like a day when foggy — 
Or lightning from a cloud. But you are right. 
This life is like a bladder-air-ball. If 
You press its youth-side in, you, by-and-by, 



COLUMBUS. 201 

Will bulge its age-side out; and, say, does 

that 
Make preachers, eh ? sensational ? You should 
know. 
Zalora. You think sensations are acquired? 
Enter — Right — St. Angel and Perez and ex- 
change greetings with Fernandez and Zalora. 
Fernandez. I know 

A soul that squeals well, is a soul well squeezed. 
Sensation is the stepson of depression. 

You step on 

Zalora. Oh, go to! — that spoils the form. 

St. Angel. What form? 

Fernandez {to St. Angel). Why, of a ball. 

{To Zalora) Not so?— Tell why 
These balls — our children's balls — are like a 
bishop. 
Perez {laughing and pointing to Zalora). 

Because, like him, they usually are round ? 
St. Angel. And sometimes, though not always, 

holy, eh ? 
Zalora {good-naturedly) . 

Why point your wit with personality? 
St. Angel. Oh never, when the person is 
around. 
But now the child's ball? — 
Fernandez. Why, the hawl is made 

{brings his hands doivn as if ordaining, and also 
striking a blow.) 



202 COLUMBUS. 

By laying on of hands. 

{All laugh.) 
Enter — Right — Mendoza and Talavera. 
Enter — Left — ^Arana, Fonseca, Breviesca 
and others. All in, or entering, the 
hall exchange greetings. 
Talavera {to Fernandez). What were you 

doing? 
Fernandez. Our duty here — ordaining non- 
sense. [You 
Should know. You sent for us. 
Zalora. And why for me? 

Am I an expert on insanity? 
Fernandez {to Zalora). Oh no, your place is 

on beyond that. 
Zalora. How? 

Fernandez. Beyond an Xpert is a ^'-s-pert. 
Zalora. Quite low down in the alphabet of 

wit! 
Fernandez. I know — the last of it — just 

where you shoe it. 
Fonseca {to Arana in another part of the hall). 

But think — the danger. 
Arana. He will never sail ! 

Fonseca. Not that I mean, but in his theories. 

You know they contradict the church. 
Arana. If this 

Be true — 
Fonseca. It is, — is very serious. 



COLUMBUS. 203 

Fernandez {to Fonseca). 

And what of that? I say the best of physics 
For seriousness is laughter. Where is bile, 
Well tickled throats will throw it up. 
Fonseca. To fool 

With fools is feeding folly. 
Fernandez. Feed a fool 

On folly, and he grows so fat, you think. 
That soon all wisdom's world that he would 

sit on. 
Would it not die itself, must make him 
diet? 
Fonseca. Oh, cease your jesting! 
Fernandez. To have gravity, 

We ought to have grave work to do. 
Fonseca. We have, 

As a commission sitting on Columbus.] 

All begin to take places around the table, 
though not yet to sit. Talavera goes to 
the central seat behind it, Mendoza 
to his right, and St. Angel and Perez 
to the right of Mendoza. Fonseca, 
Breviesca, Arana, Zalora and 
Fernandez are at Talavera' s Left. 
Others go where there are places. 
[Fernandez. {aside to Zalora alone.) He 
thinks an old hen, even, doing that. 
Should hatch out something. 
Zalora. Wait now. You will find 



204 COLUMBUS. 

Enough old hens here to bring forth, at least, 

What they will think worth while their 

cackling over. 

St. Angel {who overhears Zalora, to Perez). 

Instead of hens, I think that I should call 

them 
Birds of another's feather — birds of prey. 
Perez. In praying they do priest's work. 
St. Angel. Yes; in that — 

And making mortals humble. One with aught 
To plume himself on, will not go unplucked. 
But see — the victim.] 

Enter — Right — Columbus. 
Talavera (to those in the chamber). 

Friends, the Mariner. 
{to Columbus and all.) 
I think that you have met before. 
(Columbus and all exchange greetings.) 

[And now 
We get to work.] 

The others sit. Talavera motions to 

Columbus to do the same, which he 

does at the extreme Right. 

[Where thought appeals to thought, 

The only sovereign is the wisest word, 

Which sometimes is the last word; — any 

way, 
Is always of the spirit, and needs not 
Accoutrements and courtesies of form 



COLUMBUS. 205 

To prove its prestige. We can waive them, 
then, 

And let the spirit prompt us as it may.] 
{turning to Columbus.) 

They say you wish to have a fleet and men, 

And outfit, too, involving much expense. 

What reasons have you? 
Columbus. To extend the sway 

Of Spain and Christianity in lands 

Where now they are not known. 
Talavera. That wish is ours. 

What proof have you, though, that these 
lands exist ? 
Columbus. Reports of mariners — authority — 

The nature of the world. 
Talavera. Do these off-set 

The dangers ? 
Columbus. Which ones? 
Arana. Like the boiling waves 

Of Africa, and giants on the shores. 
Columbus. Mere fables, all! Why, I myself 
have sailed 

To Guinea, past where these were said to be. 

[And have you never heard of Eudoxus 

Of Cyzicus, who left Arabia 

And reached Gibraltar! how too from Gibral- 
tar 

The Carthaginian Hanno, sailing back, 

Came to Arabia? 



206 COLUMBUS. 

FoNSECA. All pagan lies ! 

Columbus. A statement that confutes a 
general faith 

At risk of reputation ; yet meantime 

Confirms our natural reasoning, seldom lies. 

Who would have said this, had it not been 
true? 

Yet that it should be, what more natural? 
Zalora. But sailing east is not the same as 

west. 
Columbus. Enough is known to warrant even 

that. 
Fernandez. St. Brandan and the seven cities, 
yes! 

But these have always melted into clouds 

To those who sought them. 
Columbus. Other lands are told of. 
Mendoza. Atlantis, eh? 
Columbus. Yes, and Antilla too, 

Well known to Carthage, Aristotle says. 

And many a modern vessel has been driven 

Where shores have been descried by accident 

And other signs of 

FoNSECA. Desert islands. 

Columbus. No.] 

Vicenti, twenty score of leagues beyond 

The Cape St. Vincent, came on floating wood 

Carved by men's hands. 
Zalora. Ay, from some other ship. 



COLUMBUS. 207 

Columbus. Then lost in many places. Wood 
carved thus 
Was found by my own brother-in-law, Correo. 
And plants and trees too drift thus from the 
west. 

FoNSECA. Washed there, washed back. 

Columbus. No, different in kind 

From any in the East. They found besides 
Two men's forms cast upon the isle of Flores, 
With features not at all like people here. 

Arana. And what of that ? 

Columbus. The men — not only they — 

The trees, the plants, were like in kind to those 
Described by Polo and by Mandeville 
As found in those great lands of Gengis Khan 
And Prester John, far in the Indies. 

Arana. They 

Were east, not west. 

Columbus. Just so, both east and west. 

Fernandez. What, what? 

Breviesca {to Fernandez). You see 

Columbus. It seems a contradiction. 

It could not, did you think the world were 
round. 

[FoNSECA {laughing). No, never, no! 

APvANA. No, never! 

Zalora {to Columbus sarcastically). You are 
right. 

Columbus. There is authority for thinking this. 



208 COLUMBUS. 

Arana. For fancying it, yes; or anything. 
Columbus. But Aristotle, Seneca and Pliny 

Say one can sail from Cadiz to the Indies. 
Talavera. Yet wait. Besides this, is it not 
a fact 
That they too calculated three years' time, — 
Enough to starve a ship's crew ten times 

over 

Before her cruise could compass it? 
Columbus. Some did; 

Yet, judging by the globe of Ptolemy, 
Compared with one by Marinus of Tyre, 
A third of it alone rests unexplored, — 
Eight hours of twenty-four. You measure 

this. 
It seems not more than seven hundred leagues. 
FoNSECA. You measure it? — The whole of it 

is fancy. 
Arana. Yes; — not a ray of reason in it! 

FONSECA. No.] 

Arana {to Columbus). And, if the world were 
round — what, then, forsooth? — 
Could sail around it, without tumbling off? 
FoNSECA {to Zalora). Ay, or without the 

water's tumbling off? 
Arana. Same thing ! 
Fernandez {good-naturedly to Columbus). 

I think that you must be the man 
That once I heard of, though I never saw him. 



COLUMBUS. 209 

Who wants to turn the whole world upside- 
down 

FoNSECA. Where roots of trees bear leaves, and 

rain spurts up. 
Breviesca. Oh, he would feel at home there — • 
let him go ! 
His head feels upside-down without the going. 
Fernandez. You wait and hear the whole tale. 
They examined 
The feet of those they found at Flores ; not so ? 
Zalora. They did? 

Fernandez. Oh, yes! and found them shaped 
like spiders', 
Made to walk up like this. 

{gesturing with his hands.) 
[B RE viESCA. Like those one sees 

Clawed on a pictured devil. 
FoNSECA. If he sail, 

He soon may see them too upon a real one. 
Talavera. Severe ! 

FoNSECA. I mean it; ay, I speak the truth. 

The holy father, St. Augustine, shows it : 
Men formed like this — to walk thus upside- 
down — 
Could not be sons of Adam. Did they live, 
It would upset our whole historic base 
Of Christian faith. 
Arana. Just so ! 

FoNSECA. To argue it 

14 



210 COLUMBUS. 

At all, grant it conceivable — ^involves 

Clear heresy. 
Zalora. Hear, hear ! 

Arana. Quite right! 

Breviesca. Ay, ay. 

Columbus. But are you sure these men are not 

like us ? 
FoNSECA. Humph, you would practice many 
years before 

You walked with your heels up. 
Columbus. But there, as here, 

The earth may seem to be below one. 
Arana. Ah! 

We grant to fancy, man, a certain flight — 

Have witnessed one to-day. But do you 
dream 

Her wings could turn us all to flies 

Without our knowing it? 
Columbus. There may be laws 

Of nature past our understanding. 
Breviesca. Yes. 

He means that when we lose our under- 
standing — 

Has had experience of that — why then ] 

Talavera. Come, no more nonsense, gentle- 
men. 
Zalora {rising). No more? 

Time to adjourn then, eh? Is nothing else 

Before the house. 



COLUMBUS. 211 

Columbus {rising to address Zalora). 

In such a case as this, 

In which none know the truth 

FoNSECA {rising). Your pardon, but 

The Scripture says: "He stretcheth out the 

heavens" — 
How? — like a ball? — No, no; but "like a 

tent." 
You dare throw doubt upon the word of Him 
Who framed creation? 
Columbus. What you quote is but 

A figure. 
FoNSECA. Fiction? 

Columbus. Figure — not the same. 

[Breviesca. Accuse of figuring — Him who 
knows the end 
From the beginning — all the sum at once? 
He does not figure up. He counts the whole. 
Talavera {to Breviesca). Oh, you mistake 

his meaning! 
Breviesca {looking aromtd incredulously). 

What? 
Fernandez {to Breviesca). Yes, yes.] 

Columbus. Were one upon the other side the 
globe, 
The heavens might seem as like a tent as here. 
FoNSECA. They only might? The Scripture 
says they do. 
You make it doubtful? 



212 COLUMBUS. 

Breviesca. Heretic! 

Arana. Too true! 

Columbus. My one desire, the purpose of my 
life 
Is to become an earthly instrument 
Through which the Scriptures may become 

fulfilled, 
That all the ends of earth — they are ends 

now — 
Be brought together with one Lord and God. 

FoNSECA. What good would this do, if His 
word were false? 

Columbus {in surprise). You think I doubt it. 

FoNSECA. We have heard you term 

Its affirmations figures, argue down — 
And that with pagan proofs — the fathers. 

Truth 
Can never change. 

Columbus. We can. 

FoNSECA. And change it ? 

Columbus. Change 

Its bearings for us. Truth is of the heaven: 
The mind regarding it is of the earth. 
[The one is infinite, the other finite : 
The one expressed in light itself, the other 
In forms that but reflect light; and the truth, 
Made such but by reflection, cannot flash 
An equal ray to every view-point. 

Several. Oh !] 



COLUMBUS. 213 

Columbus. Give blind men sight. At first 
their new-viewed sun 
Will stand still in the heaven. But give them 

time, 
That sun will set and rise. Then give them 

space, 
Lift them a thousand miles above the soil. 
It may do neither. 
Arana. Dangerous doctrine that! 

FoNSECA {to Columbus). No truth then, eh? 
Columbus. Yes; truth enough for all. 

But truth expressed is coin to use, not hoard. 
For when it bears the stamp of times too 

old. 
It loses current value. 
FoNSECA. Hear that! hear! 

Why, that blasphemes tradition ! 
Breviesca. Just as if 

Antiquity itself did not prove truth ! 
Columbus. The moonlight guides us, if we 
have no sun. 
But forms that loom at midnight lie to those 
Who know them in the day; and in the day 
No judgment of the distance can be true 
Except for him who pushes on to reach it. 
[FoNSECA. Hold! Hold! Enough of this! 
There is a law 
That ought to be enforced here. 
Arana. We shall see! 



214 COLUMBUS. 

Columbus. The world will see in time that I am 
right. 
No theory spun for concepts immature 
Can ever fit their full maturity.] 

Enter — Right — an Attendant. 
Talavera {rising). A moment, gentlemen. 

{to the Attendant.) What is it? 
Attendant. Sire, 

The royal courier. 
Talavera. Ah, has come so soon? 

{to all.) 
Then for to-day our conference must end. 
{All who are sitting rise.) 
Columbus {to Talavera). 

And I withdraw? 
Talavera {bowing in assent and adieu to Colum- 
bus) . We thank you for your candor. 
(Columbus hows to all the council, and the council 

to him.) 
Exeunt — Right — Columbus and Attendant, 

showing him out. 
FoNSECA {moving with the others toward the Left). 

But we must see we have no more of it. 
Fernandez {to Zalora, Talavera and Men- 
DOZA, who are walking behind FoNSECA, 
Arana, Breviesca and others). 
A spark in hayloft ! bull in porcelain ! 
Will bring the whole church crackling round 
us yet. 



COLUMBUS. 215 

Exeunt — Left — Fonseca, Arana, Breviesca 

and others. 
Mendoza {to Fernandez). 
But racy as a bull fight! 
Fernandez. In the which 

The bull did some tall tossing. 
Exeunt — Left — First Mendoza, then Zalora, 

Talavera and Fernandez. 
Perez {to St. Angel). Did you hear? — 

Strange words for him! 
St. Angel. No; I have always found 

The light mind is the bright mind. Wit and 

wits 
Are twins; without the other each is lacking. 
Exeunt — Right — St. Angel awJ all others. 



Scene Third. — Exterior of the Convent of La 
Rabida, near the little seaport of Palos, in 
Andalusia, in Spain. Backing, a wall, behind 
which are hills, trees, and a distant sea-view. 
At the right, a gateway opening into the Convent. 
At the left, trees. Entrances at the Right Rear, 
behind the Convent; Right, further forward, 
through a gateway opening into the Convent; 
Left Rear a^id Front through trees. 

Enter — Right Rear — Beatrix, a Maid, and 
Diego in out-door costumes. 

Beatrix. I could not keep him back. 



2l6 COLUMBUS, 

Diego. You tried to block 

His pathway, eh ? but he looked over you — 
Beyond you? 
Beatrix. Humph! poor treatment from a 

friend ! 
Diego. And you would fill his whole horizon 
then? 

Beatrix. Why — in a friend 

Diego. Is easy, yes; make friends 

Of little souls. Humph! they are common. 
Beatrix {offended). What? 

Diego. A spirit's measure is its outlook. Find 
A man horizoned by the whole broad world, 
Who sees it all in all, he stands a son 
Of God! — is here to do his Father's work; 
And you should join in it, or not join him. 
Beatrix. Why should he go to France? — no 

sailors there ! 
Diego. A soul when conscious of the highest 
mission 
Is always on the wing. 
Beatrix. You know our king 

Gave weight to what he argued, promised 
ships? 
Diego. But would not place my brother in 

command. 
Beatrix. Far safer so! 
Diego . For whom ? 

Beatrix. Your brother. 



COLUMBUS. aij 

Diego. What?— 

You talked of his own safety to my brother? 
Beatrix. Why, he had done his duty, sown 
the seed; 

Then why not leave the rest to Providence? 
Diego. Fling seed to seas, or bid it root in 
winds ; 

But do not trust your thoughts to Providence. 

Their soil is in humanity, nor there 

Spring, grow, or ripen without husbandry. 

Beatrix. He talked and argued 

Diego. Oh, to talk the truth 

Is easy as to breathe. To live the truth. 

And, mailed in its pure radiance, burn to 
black 

The shade its white heat severs, needs a 
strength 

To suffer hatred and inspire to love, 

Half hell's, half heaven's, and wholly Christ's. 
[Beatrix. And yet 

If others go 

Diego. So far off is the goal. 

And so unseen, that all but faith will fail ; 

And this they lack. 
Beatrix. But yet, you told him, too, 

You thought it vain to leave here. 
Diego. Feared it vain. 

But you, you urged him to submit, not sail, 

Nor push his claims upon the king. 



2l8 COLUMBUS. 

Beatrix. Of course. 

Diego. Poor, lonely man! 

Beatrix. His own fault — would not have 

A soul go with him. 
Diego. Why should he? To minds 

In which the spirit so subdues the sense, 

A lack of sympathy itself is absence. 
Beatrix. But you will join him? 
Diego. Like a faithful slave 

Whom word, not thought, commands. 
Beatrix. Why should not I go? 

Diego. You could not live contented with a 
man 

With no home either for himself or you. 

He must have told you this. 
Beatrix. Home seems a state, 

Not place. 
Diego. A state of happiness, and that 

He knows he could not give you.] 
Beatrix. Do you think 

That we shall see him here? 
Diego. Why yes, I think 

That they will find him; if so, bring him back. 

He would not miss a meeting with the queen. 
Beatrix. You say she lunches with the monks 

to-day ? 
Diego. I heard so, yes — 

{pointing toward the Left Rear.) 

And look you — she is coming. 



COLUMBUS. 219 

Beatrix. I have some faith in her. 
Diego. Faith always waits 

On perfect womanhood. Show men a form 
Whose outward symmetr}^ of nature frames 
A symmetry of soul, whose pure-hued face 
Complexions pureness of the character, 
Whose clear sweet accents outlet clear, sweet 

thought, 
Whose burning eyes flash flame from kindled 

love. 
And all whose yielding gracefulness of mien 
But fitly robes all grace-moved sympathy, — 
Ay, find a soul whose outward beauty shields 
But brighter beauty of the blade within 
By what seems merely ornament, — to her 
All men will yield a spirit's loyalty. 
The fairy-goddess of the world of fact, 
Dream-sister of the brotherhood of deed, 
An angel minister as well as queen. 
The splendor of her station lifts her high 
But like the sun that she may light us all. 
Enter — Left Rear— the Queen and Attendants, 
among them St. Angel. 
Enter — at the same time — at the Right 
through the convent's gateway, — 
Monks, among them Perez, behind 
them Sanchez and Columbus. 
Perez (to the Queen to whom all do reverence). 
We feel much honored by your presence. 



220 COLUMBUS. 

Queen. Nay, 

You are the ministers of higher power. 
The honor comes to me. 
Beatrix {to Diego in the rear). 

Look there — your brother. 
Diego. So they have found him. 
Beatrix. Hark — they speak of him. 

Perez. Your majesty, your couriers have re- 
turned. 
They found the Mariner. 
Queen. Yes, and where? 

Perez. Far up 

The mountains, just beside the boundary. 
Queen. Alone? 
Perez. Alone. 

{introducing Columbus.) The Mariner. 
(Columbus salutes the Queen.) 
Queen {to Columbus). As I hoped. 

And you were leaving us? 
Columbus. I was. 

Queen. Why so? 

Columbus. I have an aim in life. 

^Beatrix, in her gestures towards Diego, 

to which she tries to attract the attention 

of Columbus, expresses disapproval 

of his answers which follow here.) 

Queen. I thought the king 

Had promised ships. 
Columbus. He had. 



COLUMBUS. 221 

Queen. And officers. 

Columbus. Not those for such an undertaking. 
Queen. You 

Can go with them. 
Columbus. Your pardon, but — I beg — 

Excuse me. 
Queen. Why? 

Columbus. I have no time to waste. 

Queen. To waste? 

Columbus. Full eighteen years ago I first 

Made known my plan. I am no longer 
young. 
Queen. Why, ships and men, and you to sail 

with them ! 
Columbus. Sail off, sail back — I have no time 

to waste. 
Queen. You think they would not persevere? 
Columbus. The goal 

Is not of their discerning. — Why should they 
Be thought the ones to bring it to the light? 

Queen. But they 

Columbus. To them it seems a madman's 
whim, 
A thing to flout; — to me the one conception 
Of all that is most rational and holy. 
Which, then, would give his life that it might 
live? 
Queen. Why, we had hopes that none would 
need do that. 



222 COLUMBUS. 

Columbus. And hopes well based; yet any man 
who sails 
Across that unknown sea must have far more 
Than enterprise, experience, caution, skill. 
Knowledge of sail and compass, wind and 

star. 
The soul must be embarked upon the voyage 
With aims outreaching all that but concern 
The narrow limits of this earthly life. 
Queen. How few such men! Where would 

you find your crew? 
Columbus. Wherever minds are subject to 

ideas. 
Queen. And where is that ? — You judge men by 

yourself. 
Columbus. I would not dare to boast such 
difference, 
Or so humiliate my humanity, 
As to presume it possible that aims 
Inspiring my own soul, if rightly urged, 
Would not inspire, too, many another. 
Queen. Yes, 

I can believe it, with yourself to urge them. 
And were you given command, would you 

collect 
A crew and sail with them ? 
Columbus. No man can reach 

A problem's right solution, if he fail 
To calculate aright the means. 



COLUMBUS. 223 

Queen. Of course— 

And that 

Columbus. Has not been done in this case. 
Queen. No?— 

What more would you require? 
Columbus. Ten times the sum 

That has been promised. 
Queen. Ten times? — ten times that 

Is not in all the treasury. 
Columbus. I would give 

The whole I have — both property and life. 
Sanchez. And I. 

Queen. You would ? — Yet rich ! 

Sanchez. I would. 

Diego {coming forward and bowing before the 
Queen). And I, 

Though I have nothing — only what you see. 
St. Angel. Your Majesty, with men like these, 
preparing 

To root their very spirits out from earth, 

That they may thus transplant them where the 
world 

Will reap a richer fruitage, what were Spain, 

Were she to grudge a void from which were 
scraped 

A paltry heap of gold! All were too mean 

To pedestal aright the lasting fame 

That would be hers, did they attain their 
end 



224 COLUMBUS. 

Queen. How true! — and yet the royal treas- 
ury 

St. Angel. Are there no treasures elsewhere 

than in that? 
Queen {hesitating a moment). 

There are. If I be queen, let me be queen 
Of Spain's rich spirit as of Spain's rich soil. 
I will — there is a treasure. — What to Spain 
Are her most precious treasures, that star most 
The crown that they surround with living 

light? 
Mere jewels, think you? — Nay, not these, but 

men. 
And if I give the one to gain the other, who 
Could strike a better bargain? Ay, I will — 
I pledge you the crown jewels of Castile. 
I pledge you the commandership. Enough! 
When ready, you shall go. 
Columbus (jailing on his knees before her). 

God bless the queen. 
{The others fall on their knees beside Columbus.) 



Curtain. End of Act II. 



ACT THIRD. 

Scene First. — A street in Palos de Moguer, in 
Andalusia. Backing, a distant harbor, with 
ships. At the Right, a porch before the house 
of Beatrix. At the Left, other houses. Bai- 
trances. Right Rear, behind the house of Bea- 
trix; Right, farther forward, through a door 
opening from this house onto the porch in front 
of it; Right Front, through the street in front of 
this house; Left Rear and Front, through streets. 

{The rising curtain reveals Columbus and 
Beatrix, standing on or near the porch.) 

Columbus. Now I must off, and see the ships. 
You know 
How long I have been gone. 

Beatrix. You met the queen? 

Columbus. And king, and got their last in- 
structions. 

Beatrix. Oh, 

I cannot bear to have you sail ! 

Columbus. Nor I 

To leave you. 

Beatrix. Yet 

15 225 



226 COLUMBUS. 

[ Columbus . I must . 

Beatrix. Oh, yes, you must! 

Columbus. Our lives are finite, but the aims of 
life 

Are infinite, and crowd on every side. 

Whate'er we strive to reach, in thought, in 
^ deed. 

At last, some one aim surely tips the scales ; 

As it has weight, its rivals are thrown up. 
Beatrix. Yes, even she who loves you. 
Columbus. I had hoped, 

Now that my project seems, at last, afloat, 

That your soul would be buoyant as is mine. 
Beatrix. Yes, yes, but yet can it be worth the 

price? 
Columbus. I know your meaning, — ^loss of life, 
perhaps. 

And all for which some prize life, — ease and 
love. 

But, ah, who would not feel it is worth this? — 

And others go with me who think the same. 
Beatrix. Some call them fools. 
Columbus. Some? — where? 

Beatrix. In all the streets. 

Columbus. Here? 
Beatrix. Yes. 

Columbus. They are fools, if this life be all; 

And fools, if they but claim that it is all. 

For, risking dangers thick as mid-sea-mists 



COLUMBUS. 227 

In war, in wave, men's deeds outdo their 

words, 
And prove they serve a grander sovereignty, 
Whose realms outreach all death-lines. 
Beatrix. Is it these 

You seek in that cloud-circled, storm-set sea? 
Ah, how can I let them out-price your life? — 
Or how can you?] 
Columbus. So often I have told you! — 

What moves me seems beyond all conscious 

thought ; 
Seems like the lure that leads the summer bird 
Southward when comes the fall. It is enough, 
It is my destiny. I weigh it well, 
And find it rational; yet why I first 
Conceived it as I do, I cannot tell. 
Enter — Left — Diego and a Companion. 
Diego {to his Coup aishon as he looks at Beatrix). 
Like all the other women in the town, 
Is leagued to keep him back, eh? It is not 
In nature that a man obey a woman. 
And human ways, when not in nature, bode 
Inhuman tampering somewhere. He should 

know 
That none can turn to she the pronoun he 
Without an 5 that puts a hiss before it. 
Exit — L eft — Com panion . 
{to Columbus.) 
My brother? 



228 COLUMBUS. 

Columbus {to Diego). Ay? 

Diego. Have business (Diego and Beatrix 

how to each other). 
Columbus. I know it — {to Beatrix), 

Will find you later. Now, you will excuse me. 
Exit — Right — into her house, Beatrix. 
Diego. You should have come before. That 
woman's gowns 
Are always clinging to you — look as if 
She thought to make a woman of yourself. 
Confound their sex! 

Columbus. Not all now! There are some 

Diego. Some men too; but in all of Spain, not 
six 
To man your vessels of their own free will. 
Why not? — Because not fit to go with you. 
How many women think you fit for it? 
[Columbus. Be not so hard on them. 
Diego. No, they are soft, 

More soft than cats, and mew, too, ay, and 

scratch. 
Have seen their blisters! ay, have seen a man 
Whose very soul had been scratched out by 
one. 
Columbus. You talk as if you feared for me. 
Diego. I fear 

For all the expedition. Have you heard 
The news? 
Columbus. What is it? 



COLUMBUS. 229 

Diego. Nothing that is good. 

Columbus. The ships are 

Diego. Floating. You may thank the guards. 

The crews have all deserted. 
Columbus. What? 

Diego. As if 

The howlings of their wives and mothers here 

About their ears, could bring them less of hell 

Than howlings of the wind upon the sea! 
Columbus. The women have persuaded them 
to break 

Their word with us? 
Diego. Why, yes. Who else would, eh? 

What woman ever cared about her word, — 

Her own word or her husband's? Bless her 
jaws! 

They have so many words, why care for one 
word ?] 
Columbus. Oh, waive the women! Is it true 
the crews 

Have all deserted? 
Diego. Almost all. 

Columbus. But yet 

The government 

Diego. Yes, they have sent around 

Arresting some, imprisoning others. You 

Will have your crew; for they have found a 
source 

Beyond exhausting. 



230 COLUMBUS. 

Columbus. What is that? 

Diego. The jail, 

Which, like an Arab-shirt turned inside out, 

Will shake its lice upon you. 
Columbus. That, at least, 

Will give us men. 
Diego. If you can call them men, 

[These creatures, whom a life-long fear of light 

Has trained for treachery stabbing in the 
dark ; 

Sneaks, too irresolute and indolent 

To push by worthy means to worthy ends. 

But I would trust in waves adrift for hell 

As much as in a rudder held by knaves.] 

What can you ever do with such as these 

When three months out at sea? 
Columbus. I shall depend 

Upon my officers. 
Diego. You know them then? 

You never know a coward soul till cowed 

By gusts out-winding his own self-conceit; 

And garbs they guise in, never cloud the air 

In time for us to brace the fence they fell. 

I would that I were going with you. 
Columbus. No; 

All that we settled. One should stay behind 

To guard our interests here. 

Enter — Left — Gutierrez. 
Diego. And will be needed 



COLUMBUS. 231 

Far more than you could guess. This officer 

Will tell you, — is the one has been in charge. 
Columbus, {to Gutierrez as they exchajige 
salutes.) 

The ships are safe and ready? 
Gutierrez. Guarded, Senior, 

All night, all day. Some men here took an oath, 

Perhaps you know, to scuttle them. 
Columbus. They did? 

But they have not succeeded. 
Gutierrez. No, of course. 

We always guard a ship, when once impressed 

For royal services, like treasure. Still 

They came within an inch of it. 
Columbus. How so ? 

Gutierrez. We thought that Breviesca was 

your friend. 
Columbus. Quite otherwise, I fear. 
Gutierrez. And I, but yet, 

As agent of Fonseca, Bishop of 

Columbus. 0, worse and worse! The bishop, 
I believe, 

Would be assured that only truth had tri- 
umphed. 

If I and all the crew were drowned. 
Gutierrez. Ah, so? 

Well, they have tried it. 
Columbus. What? 

Gutierrez. To have you drowned. 



232 COLUMBUS. 

Columbus. You mean? — 

Gutierrez. Tried to corrupt the calkcrs. 

Columbus. No! — 

Are sure of that? 

Gutierrez. I overheard. 

Columbus. Good God! — 

This man Breviesca? 

Gutierrez. It was he. 

Columbus. And you? 

Gutierrez. We turned the calkers off; and 
had a task 
Impressing other. That performed, we put 
A soldier back of every one to calk 
His pores with steel unless he calked the 
ships'. 

Columbus. They now are ready? 

Gutierrez. All things ready, Senior. 

Columbus. We sail to-morrow, then. 

Gutierrez. Meantime, perhaps — 

Your pardon — you will hold yourself unseen? 

Columbus. Why so? 

Gutierrez. To save a conflict with the mob. 

Columbus. You mean that 

Gutierrez. They might keep you here by 
force ; 
[Or sacrifice your life, and readily, 
To save their friends, — the friends they deem 
are doomed. 

Diego. Why, very victims burning at the stake 



COLUMBUS. 233 

Could never cause a cloud more black than 

seems 
To hang above the town to-day.] 

Columbus {to Gutierrez). I see, 

Your hint has value. I will join you soon. 

Exit — Left — Gutierrez, after saluting. Col- 
umbus continues to Diego. 
So so! You note what influenced Beatrix. 

[Diego. Of course. A man but in his public 
thought 
Antiphonals the public sentiment. 
A woman does it in her private thought; 
And woe to lovers who dare say their say 
Without a little clique that, echoing it. 
Can make it seem, at least, a little public. 

Columbus. But can you blame her — 

Diego. Trend to fashion? No. 

You flaunt the flag of fashion in a crowd 
And, in the bee-line of their rush to tail 
Its leading, one could pick the women out 
Without their having skirts on.] 

Columbus. I must send 

For Pinzon. He awaits me at his home. 

Diego. Let me go. 

Columbus. Thanks, and say that I must wait, 
And meet him at the ships. Find Perez too, 
And tell him that we sail at dawn, and wish 
The sacrament. You say that we will use 
The little chapel there beside the dock. 



234 COLUMBUS. 

Diego. I will. 
Columbus. And I go too — 
{looking toward the left, then at the house of 
Beatrix.) And yet I ought 

To say a word more here. When courtesy 

And caution balance in the scales, the heart 

Is kinder than the head, if not more wise. 
Exit — Right Front — Diego. 
Enter — Right Rear — Breviesca, accompanied 

by a Citizen. 
Breviesca {stepping between Columbus and the 
house of Beatrix). 

Good day. 
Columbus. Ah ! Senior Breviesca ! 

Breviesca. I 

Would speak to you. 
Columbus. You have your wish. 
Breviesca. I bring 

An invitation from the bishop. 
Columbus. Which — 

Fonseca ? 
Breviesca. Yes. 
Columbus. And where is he? 

Breviesca. Why, at 

The monastery. 
Columbus. On the other side 

The town, not so? — What would he with 
me? 
Breviesca. Talk 



COLUMBUS, 235 

About the mission that the church has 
planned. 
Columbus. These matters have been all ar- 
ranged. 
Breviesca. But he 

Would see you. 
Columbus. He can see me at my ship. 
Breviesca. His work prevents. 
Columbus. Then give him my regrets. 

Breviesca. But he demands your presence. 
Columbus. I am not 

Within his jurisdiction. 
[Citizen. Ho! hear that. 

Columbus. My work was ordered by the 

queen. 
Breviesca. And mine 

Was ordered by the bishop. Will you come? 
Columbus. My answer has been given. 
Citizen. Frightened eh? — 

Aha! — would get behind the soldiers there. 
{pointing toward the ships and harbor at the Left). 
Columbus. A man who lives for others, not 
for self, 
Has little fear for self; yet care for them 
May give him caution. I have weighty 

reasons 
For keeping eyes upon the ships. 
Citizen {sarcastically and looking significantly 
a/ Breviesca). Oh, yes!] 



236 COLUMBUS. 

Breviesca {approaching Columbus as if to lay 
his hand on him). 
Say, will you go with us? — I think you will. 
Columbus {knocking Breviesca down). 

Yes, yes, when down there with you, then I 
will. 
Enter — Left Rear — Gutierrez with two Sol- 
diers. 
Enter — Right Front — Diego. 
Exit — Right Rear — Citizen. 
Diego. What is it? 

Columbus. I am practicing, you see — 

On criminals. — That man there set a trap. 
But it takes two to make a trap work. He, 
He was a genius, this man, played both roles. 
He set it and was caught in it. 
Exit — Right Rear — Breviesca, crawling anx- 
iously away. 
Diego and Gutierrez start to follow and arrest 
him. Columbus motions them hack with his 

hand. No, no! 
Diego. And you, my brother? Such a patient 

man? 
Columbus. Oh, patient! When a fire has 
been kept in 
For eighteen years, blame not its blazing out. 
Thank God it did not wholly blast the fool 
Whose fumbling fouled it — thought it had no 
life. 



COLUMBUS. 237 

The villain! if I only could be sure 
He would be better for the punishment! 
Diego. You go now to the ships? 
Columbus. Yes, very soon. 

Gutierrez. Shall I go with you? 
Columbus {ascending the porch of the house of 
Beatrix). Wait here if you choose. 
But yet, of all men taught the lesson, I 
By this time, should have learned to go 
alone. 

Exit — Right Front — Diego. 
Exit — Right — through the porch — Columbus. 
Gutierrez motions to the soldiers as if setting 
a guard about the house of Beatrix. 



Scene Second. — The deck of the ship of Col- 
umbus. Backing, sky and sea; at first, invisible 
because it is night; later visible, as at sunrise and, 
if thought best, representing, in a panorama, a 
gradual approach of the ships to shore, the 
scenery moving from Left to Right. At the 
Right is a cabin; above it, a box for the pilot 
and a platform on which sailors can stand. At 
the Left, apparently near the bow of the vessel 
is a hatchway into the ship's hold. On the deck 
are masts, sails, ropes and other things that will 
readily suggest themselves. 
Entrances, at the Right, into the cabin, and on to 



238 COLUMBUS. 

the platform above it, also on to the deck; at the 
Left, into the hatchway, and on to the deck. 

RoLDAN appears near the bow of the ship, 

Escobar beside him, and Pintor nearer 

the cabin. Other Sailors also are present. 

RoLDAN {looking off through the dark). Oh, I am 

sick of this ! 
Pintor. And I. 

Escobar. You wait. 

Another storm will make you sicker still. 
[Pintor. If it would only sicken him. 
RoLDAN. Make him 

Throw up, eh? 
Pintor. Yes, throw up the voyage. 

Escobar. That 

Will come in time. But when it comes, my 

lad, 
The ship will throw up us too. 
Pintor. I know now 

How fish feel when they see the water boil, 
Just when we drop them in alive. 
Escobar. Are not 

More out their element than we are here, 
With these few planks between — then purga- 
tory. 
Pintor. Nor any more sure, either, to be 

cooked.] 
Roldan. What means it all? — those weeks 
without a stir 



COLUMBUS. 239 

Amid the waves, and then those heavy swells 

Without a stir amid the winds? 
Escobar. What means it? — 

Why, like enough our ship is near the place 

Where all the waters pour down hill. 
RoLDAN. You mean 

The edge? 
Escobar. Why not? — In streams you always 
find 

Smooth, rapid water, waves, and then the 
plunge. 
RoLDAN. Is quiet now. 
Escobar. So is a cataract 

Just where it nears the brink. 
RoLDAN. The holy dame! 

Do you believe? — 
Escobar. There must have been some cause. 

What was it ? There was not a wind. 
PiNTOR. And when 

There was, ten times to one time it blew west. 

No wind like that will ever speed us home. 
Escobar. And what wind think you will, or 



can 



RoLDAN. Or can? 

Escobar. Humph ! let him keep on here, a day 
or two, 
These floating weeds will hold us like a vise. 
RoLDAN. He calls them signs of land. 
Escobar. Oh, yes, of land! — 



240 COLUMBUS. 

That fatal land afloat in fatal seas 
Entrapping in their meshes all the ships 
That dare to venture near. 
RoLDAN {looking for approval to PiNTOR and 
other Sailors, who nod to him in con- 
firmation of what he says.) 

Yes, we have heard — 
Escobar. You have? — Then you are all a set of 

fools. 
[PiNTOR. I know it; but it never was our 

fault. 
Escobar. Not? — Whose? 

PiNTOR. The government's. It forced us here. 
Escobar. We were not kept here by it. What 
does that 
Is one man's will, and he a lunatic. 
RoLDAN. How did he ever gain the ear of 

Spain? 
Escobar. By talking. Most men's thoughts 
are led, you know, 
In trains of their own talking. Talk them 

down, 
They lose their leader. Keep on talking 

then, 
They find in you another. Any sound 
You choose to make, they take for sense. 

Why not? 
That course has grown to be their habit. 

PiNTOR. Oh, 



COLUMBUS. 241 

Yet not through talk or thought he deals with 
us, 

But force. 
Escobar. And he will find before he dies 

That men accept one's estimate of them. 

If he esteem them thinkers, give them thought, 

They turn to him like thinking beings; but 

If he esteem them brutes, and give them 
force, 

They turn upon him like a brute. 
RoLDAN. Should we, 

Ourselves? 
Escobar. Why not? — if he deserve it? 

ROLDAN. But 

If we should mutiny, and then go home — 
Escobar. The choice is not between this place 
and home ; 
No, but the bottom of the sea and land. 
And other lands are fertile as are Spain's. 
RoLDAN. You own no wife and children! 
Escobar. Humph, that means 

My life is not behind me, but before — 
With precious little left of it, and this — 
How much is time here worth, if in it 

all 
We live but slaves, and never know of good 

times ? 
The man who squeezes these all out our 
life— 
16 



242 COLUMBUS. 

Wrings our last sweat-drop out to serve him- 
self, — 

He has 

PiNTOR. A vampire's care for us. 
Escobar. What he 

Cares for is notoriety, which means 

The bulge of contrast. Crush and hush your 
kind, 

And you are seen and heard.] 
PiNTOR. What right has he 

To lord and offset Genoese mastership 

By making slaves of Spaniards ? 
RoLDAN. That was what 

They asked at home! 
Escobar. What they will ask again, 

If we sail home without him, 
PiNTOR. That they will. 

What man of station in the land would not 

Be glad to hear that he had failed? 
Escobar. And all 

The rest will see that those who sailed beyond 

All others on a sea like this, have done 

The whole that Spain could ask. 

RoLDAN. And still 

Escobar. As if 

It were not right, when in a madman's hands. 

To use our reason, and resist him. 
PiNTOR. Yes, 

A man should use his reason. Are we brutes? 



COLUMBUS. 24s 

[Escobar. No; — ^worse than brutes when he 
comes. Brutes, at times, 
To save their lives, will turn upon a man. 
But we — five score to one, but all afraid 
To call our souls our own. Let him appear, 
We fly like cry-girls from a buzzing bug 
One touch could crush in no time. 

RoLDAN. But the court 

Has clothed him with authority. 

Escobar. Mere sheep 

Would not be driven by another sheep 
Though clothed in bear-skin, could they only 

hear 
His old familiar bleat. 

RoLDAN . And yet you know 

He has the power 

Escobar. Because we give it him, 

Who whine, — ^whine merely like a set of babes, 
Too weak to lift a finger for ourselves. 

RoLDAN. The King 

Escobar. Is all divine! I grant it; ay, 

What else could ever pick out, plying but 
A random sword, and prick and pin in place 
As many Spanish cowards as are here?] 

RoLDAN. Man, you will have us hung for 
murder yet. 

Escobar. Oh, there is many a'way to kill a cat. 
The best I know is drowning. Nights are 
dark. 



244 COLUMBUS. 

And one may slip against a man, and he, 
When sHpped against, may stumble over- 
board. 
If so, he drowns — but how? — he drowns 
himself. 
RoLDAN. Hark! — He is coming! — Down — and 
clear from this. 
Exeunt — Left, into the Hatchway — RoL- 
DAN, PiNTOR and Escobar. 
Enter — Right, from the Cabin — Columbus and 

Bartholomew. 
Columbus (to Bartholomew). 

He comes on plotting. — That is plain enough. 
How form and face — mere garments that they 

are — 
Will twist and wrinkle to a touch of thought ! — ■ 
Fools ! — Yet without fools, where were sover- 
eignty 
For wise men? — they would find it harder 

work 
To do earth's thinking for it ; harder work 
To string the nerves that center in one's brain 
Through all the mass, and rein it to one's 

will. — 
Can I do this with these men? or must I, 
I who have given all these years to it. 
Ay, and my young love too, my life, my all, — 
Must I turn back? — I will not, though they 
kill me. (looking at a paper in his hand.) 



COLUMBUS. 245 

These figures give seven hundred fifty leagues. 
How wise to make my false log for the crew ! 
That log has passed six hundred ; but without 

it 
I might have had more trouble. In the time 
I served King Renier, and went off to take 
The galley Fernandina; and my crew, 
In fright to hear two ships were guarding her, 
Had turned our helm, and thought we flew 

away; 
Ah, how I steered straight for her in the night ! 
And fought her at the dawn! — So act I here. 
We men who think have duties due our kind. 
One duty is, to block their finding out 
What are our thoughts. Yes, they may learn 

too much. 
The truth is not a plaything for a babe. 
Truth is a gem, and sometimes needs encasing. 
Yet, if we sail on long, the day will come 
When our true distance will be known. — 

•What then? 
What then? 
Voices {from the hatchway). He shall turn 

back! He shall! Will make him. 
Columbus. Hark! hark! — turn back? They 

dare speak out like that ? 
Oh, what a cruel destiny is mine 
To unfulfillment doom'd, if I do not 
What even heaven itself has never done, — 



246 COLUMBUS, 

Give patience to a world of restlessness ! 

Oh, God, I think I serve thee. Give me power 

To calm these minds, as Christ could calm the 
sea. 
Enter — Left, from the hatchway — Escobar, Rol- 

DAN, Pintor; and from other Entrances, Right 

and Left, Sanchez, Gutierrez and others. 

Well, what is wrong? 
Escobar. We came to tell you. Senior, 

We think it time that we turn back. 
Columbus. Turnback? 

A strange idea that ! 
Several. Oh, strange! 

Columbus. Why, yes, 

With what we saw to-day — the herbs and 
flowers. 
Pintor. Humph! they were seen before, 
Columbus. But not the same — 

Not fresh and green ; and then the small shore- 
fish 

And birds too, birds of kinds that never sleep, 

Nor light, except on land — the singing birds 

That perched upon our mast. 
Escobar. If there were land — 

Three times it has been called — we now have 
passed it. 
Columbus. We may be in a bay. 
Escobar. You would not steer 

As Captain Pinzon wished. 



COLUMBUS. 247 

Columbus. The birds all flew 

This other way. I thought them flying home. 

PiNTOR. We are not birds. 

Escobar. Are going home though. 

RoLDAN. Yes. 

Columbus. A pleasant swim! The ship is 
going on. 

Several. No, no. 

Columbus. Why, men, you said the same 

before. 
Have you forgot how many of you cried, 
Ay, cried, in fear of burning skies above 
The Teneriffe volcano? — and I said 
It would not harm you. Did it? Then shot 

by 
Those meteors ; and I said they too would pass. 
Did I mistake? Then tireless western winds; 
But east winds turned them. Then a glassy 

sea; 
But billows broke it. Then came signs of 

land ; 
And now they multiply, as I had hoped. 
If right so far, then I have earned your trust. 

Escobar. Ugh! Those are old tales now. 

Several. Yes. 

Columbus. Let them be so. 

The land toward which we sail is not unknown ; 
Those who have seen it say, that all the gold 
In all of Europe grouped and fused to make 



248 COLUMBUS. 

A single mass, would hardly form one cliff 
Of endless mountain ranges that are there. 
RoLDAN. Hear that now! 
Columbus. They would be enough to make 
A lord, at home, of every one of you 
Without the title; but, think you, the court, 
The courtiers, would not wish you this besides? 
You, who had burned through unknown dark- 
ness here 
More brilliantly than comets through the 

sky? 

I mean it, for the trail you leave behind 
Will write in deathless light around the world 
The endless glory of our Christian Spain. 
RoLDAN and Others. Yes, yes. 
Escobar. No, no, come on ! 

(moviftg toward Columbus, and urging others to do 

the same). 
PiNTOR {to RoLDAN and those who hold back). 

Ay, you are pledged. 
Lay hands upon him. Make him yield. 
Escobar approaches Columbus. He and 

Bartholomew draw their swords. 
Columbus {to Escobar). Stand back. 

I represent the king. 
Escobar. And we your slaves? 

Columbus. Far better so than slaves to one 
another. 
Lay hands on me, not I alone will have 



COLUMBUS. 249 

A score of masters. Look you to your mates. 
You pledged yourselves to stand together? 

What?— 
Have you, or you, no foe in all this crew? 
And now you place your life in that foe's 

hands? 
When all he needs to raise himself in Spain 
Is telling truth — no more — Humph! will he 

not tell? 
Ay, kill me, drown me, I shall be avenged. 
When bad men band, then traitors fill the 

camp ; 
And, if a fair foe fail, the foul will not, 
For in that fight are God and devil both. 
RoLDAN. Humph! I must not be found here. 
PiNTOR. {leaving the mutineers.) No, nor I. 

Columbus (to Bartholomew). At last the tide 
has turned. Heaven help me now. 
{to the sailors.) 
I thought that I had officers and men 
Too manly to see one man stand alone, — 
That some would stand beside me. Was I 
wrong ? 
Sanchez. No. 
Gutierrez. No. 

(Roldan and those with him come beside 
Sanchez and Gutierrez. They ap- 
proach Columbus. Escobar Jails 
hack.) 



250 COLUMBUS. 

Columbus. I thank you, men. I hoped 

as much. 
And now — why you are my brave crew again \— 
Have been so brave, I could not bear to think 
That you could fail of perfect victory — 
Here, too, almost in sight. How you would 

feel 
When, after that next voyage — which now 

we know 
That some one else would make, did we go 

home — 
You saw the wreaths and wealth that you alone 
Had really won, deck other's heads and hands ! 
Sanchez. Well asked ! 
RoLDAN. Ay, ay. 

Columbus. You had forgotten this. 

Well, now let us forget what just has happened. 
You know, men, that the same ship holds us 

all; 
And all that comes to you must come to me. 
RoLDAN. It must. 

Columbus. Then let the matter rest. Enough ! 
Now to your places. 

Exeunt — Left — into the hatchway — Es- 
cobar, RoLDAN, PiNTOR and others; 
On deck, Right — Sanchez; Left — 
Gutierrez. Columbus continues 
to Bartholomew. 

One more crisis passed ! 



COLUMBUS. 251 

How many further? — Lord, how long! how 

long ! {He looks off over the sea.) 

Because a soul will gaze at darkness thus, 

It does not prove he sees — mere habit. Ah! 

{A slightly moving light appears in the 

back distance at the Left; i.e., in the 

direction in which the ship is sailing; 

and another steady light at the Right.) 

Columbus {looking at the Left light). What light 

is that ? 
Bartholomew. It cannot be the Pinta's? — 
{looking at the Right light) . 
No; it sails there. 
Columbus. And yet, I thought — why yes; 

{looking farther to the Right). 
The Nina is behind too. 
Bartholomew. Then that there ? — 

{pointing to the Left light.) 
Columbus. It cannot be a star! Are we 
deceived? {beckoning to the Left Rear.) 
Don Gutierrez, come and help us, please. 
Enter — Left Rear — Don Gutierrez. 
{all salute.) 
Columbus {pointing toward the Left light). 

Can you see anything off here? 
Gutierrez. Wh^^- yes — 

The Pinta. 
Columbus {pointing to the Right light). No; is 
there. 



252 COLUMBUS. 

Gutierrez. Humph! so it is. 

The Nina is ahead, then? 
Bartholomew {pointing to the Right again). 

No, look back. 
Gutierrez. Yet some ship's light. 
Columbus. It could not be a star? 

Gutierrez. How could it be? 
Columbus. The Inspector there : ask him. 

Inspector? 

{Calling to some one beyond the Right Front). 
Enter — Right Frojit — Sanchez and salutes. 
Sanchez. Senior? 
Columbus {pointing to the Left light) 

Can you see that light? 
Sanchez. Where? 

Columbus. There, beyond the Pinta's. 
Sanchez. Yes. I thought 

The Nina was behind us. 
Columbus {pointing to the Right light). 

So she is. 
Sanchez. What? can another ship have sailed 

off here ? 
Columbus. Another ship, eh ? Watch it further. 
Gutierrez. Why, 

I think it moves. 
Sanchez. It does ! 

Columbus. Not up and down 

As if on waves, but to and fro? 
Gutierrez. Just so ! 



COLUMBUS. 253 

Columbus. And some long distance to and fro. 

{The light makes this motion.) 
Sanchez. Shall call 

The others? 
Columbus. No, not yet — no false alarm! 
Gutierrez. You think it land? 
Columbus {nodding). Inhabited by men. 

Gutierrez. By men? — Good God! 
Bartholomew. Yes, you may well say good. 
Gutierrez. I think I see what seems a line 

of surf. 
Columbus. Perhaps. If so, the Pinta nears it. 
Wait! 
Is almost daybreak. We shall hear her gun. 
Sanchez. Your order that a false report would 
stop 
The starter's chance for the discovery-prize 
Will keep the signal back till all are sure. 
Columbus. Best so! If blind men all were 
born blind, none 
Were cursed by losing sight. In nights like this, 
Not unawakened hope I dread, as much 
As wakening disappointment. 

{The report of a gun is heard.) 

What? so soon? 
Sanchez. It must be true ! 
Columbus. No doubt of it! 

Gutierrez. No, none. 

{The scene is gradually becoming brighter 



254 COLUMBUS. 

with the approaching dawn. Voices 
of the Sailors are heard.) 
Columbus. The sailors! I must go now. 
You receive them ; 
And wait till I return. An hour as grand 
As this one should be welcomed fittingly. 
Exit — Right — into the cabin, Columbus. 
Enter — Left— from the hold, Escobar, Roldan, 
PiNTOR, and others. 
Enter — Right — others. 
(Roldan rushes to the Left, and gazes towards 
where the light was first seen.) 
Escobar. A false report, of course! 

PiNTOR. Of course, but then 

Roldan. Good heavens, it is true ! 
Escobar. True? 

Roldan. There is land. 

Escobar. It cannot be. 
Roldan. It is. Look there. 

PiNTOR (contemptuously, after looking not exactly 
where Roldan points). A cloud. 

Roldan. Cloud? No. As clear as daylight, 

man. Dry land. 
Escobar. It is, hurrah ! 
PiNTOR. You think so? 

Escobar. Are you blind? 

Is no mistake, it is land ! 

{to the other Sailors). 

Boys, hurrah ! 



COLUMBUS. 255 

Sailors. Land, land! 
RoLDAN. No doubt of it! 

Sailors. Hurrah ! 

{They embrace each other and make wild demon- 
strations of delight.) 
Escobar {looking toward the Cabin Entrance — 
and calli^ig aloud). 
The admiral ! 
RoLDAN. Three cheers ! 

PiNTOR. The admiral ! 

RoLDAN. He does not know it yet? 
Sanchez. Trust him for that. 

Sailors {shouting). 

The admiral ! Hurrah ! The admiral ! 
Sanchez. "All hail the Queen," now. That 
will fetch him. Sing. 
{All remove their caps and chant the following): 

ALL HAIL THE QUEEN. ^ 

All hail the Queen. 
No thrills can fill the lover's breast 
For that first love he loves the best, 
Like ours that throb to each appeal 

Of her in whom, enthroned above 

^ " The crew were now assembled on the decks of the 
several ships, to return thanks to God for their prosperous 
voyage, and their happy discovery of land, chanting the 
Salve Regina and other anthems. Such was the solemn 
manner in which Columbus celebrated all his discoveries." 
(Irving's Columbus: Book VL, Chap. I.) 



256 COLUMBUS. 

The nation's heart, we see, we feel 
The symbol of the sway we love, 
The while we hail our Queen. 

All hail the Queen. 
No cause can rouse the soul of strife 
In men who war for child and wife, 
Like ours that, where her battles be, 

Know not of rest until above 
The foe that falls, enthroned we see 

The symbol of the sway we love. 

The while we hail our Queen. 

All hail the Queen. 
No loyalty can make a son 
Show what a mother's love has done. 
Like ours who press through land and sea, 

Our one reward to find above 
Our gains that show what man can be, 

The symbol of the sway we love. 

The while we hail our Queen. 

{While this song is being sung, the scenery 
at the back of the stage moves from 
Left to Right, thus representing the 
gradual approach of the ship to la^id. 
Before the music ceases, Columbus 
appears infidl uniform on the platform 
at the Right above the cabin. He is 
clothed in scarlet. Behind him stands 
a standard-bearer holding aloft the 
royal standard, and on either side of 
this, two others hold the banners of 



COLUMBUS. 257 

the enterprise, emblazoned with a 
green cross flanked by the letters F and 
Y, the initials of Fernando and Isabel. 
{Irving' s Columbus. Book IV., Chap. 
I., also Book VI., Chap. I.) 
RoLDAN {catching sight of Columbus). 

See there ! 
Escobar. Ah, there he is. 
Sailors. Hurrah! hurrah! 

Escobar {shouting to Columbus). Ay, you were 

right — were right ! 
RoLDAN. As he is always! 

Escobar. I told you so. 
RoLDAN {aside to Escobar). 

You did? — What time was that? 
PiNTOR. The Admiral forever ! 
RoLDAN {aside to Pintor). Ay, since when? 
{shouting aloud.) 
Let him remember who have been his friends. 
Escobar. Ay, that he will. 
RoLDAN. We knew you would succeed. 

Pintor. The greatest hour that Spain has ever 

known. 
Escobar. Gained through the greatest man 
that Spain has had. 

{to the Sailors.) 
Here, swear him your allegiance. Down, 
men, down. 
{All fall on their knees before Columbus.) 



258 COLUMBUS. 

Columbus. I thank you, men, both for my- 
self and those 
Who sent us forth; and join with you to swear 
Allegiance to our sovereigns — more than this, 

{pointing to the cross upon the banner) , 
To that far higher Power that they too serve 
Whose emblem is inscribed upon our banner. 
In that we conquer. When we disembark 
Ourhandswillplantthecross justwhere we land. 
And now — you seem exultant — I confess 
To awe like that which Moses must have felt 
When God's own hand had touched him as it 

passed. 
I cannot stand — nay, let me kneel with you 
With praise, thanksgiving, and new-vowed 
devotion. 

{They all kneel beneath the standard, and 
while the scenery, moving behind, 
represents the approach to land, after 
a few moments of silence, except for 
the music of the orchestra, they chant 
the following) : 

O God of all things living, 

Our Sovereign, Saviour, Guide, 
All gifts are of Thy giving, 
All gains by Thee supplied. 
The stars that make 
High hopes awake 
But beacon what Thou seest. 



COLUMBUS. 259 

The stroke and stress 
That earn success 
Are but what Thou decreest. 
O God of all things living, 

Our Sovereign, Saviour, Guide, 
All gifts are of Thy giving, 
All gains by Thee supplied. 

O God, all good bestowing 

On souls that seek Thy way, 
Our hearts, with joy o'erflowing, 
Give thanks to Thee to-day. 
In all the past 
Whose blessings last, 
Thy presence fills the story; 
And all the gleams 
That gild our dreams 
Obtain from Thee their glory. 
O God, all good bestowing 

On souls that seek Thy way, 

Our hearts with joy o'erflowing, 

Give thanks to Thee to-day. 



Curtain. End of Act III. 



ACT FOURTH. 

[Scene First. — Reception room in a house in 
Spain. 

Entrances — Right and Left. 
Enter — Left — Beatrix. 
Enter — Right — Columbus and Diego. 
Beatrix. Returned? Thank God! 
Columbus. Yes, God alone could do it. 

{to Diego, as voices are heard from without.) 
In pity for me, Diego, send them off; 
And say that I to-night will tell them all. 
Exit — Right — Diego. 
{to Beatrix.) 
How fares our son, Fernando? 
Beatrix. Grown and strong. 

Is out just now — will not be back till noon. 
I thought you coming when I heard the noise. 
Columbus. Ah, yes, as I remember, when I 
left, 
I roused a noise too. 
Beatrix. You have roused one now 

That all the world will hear. 
Columbus. You never praise 

260 



COLUMBUS. 261 

A wind, because it makes the sea-waves roar: 
It may be empty, and it may do harm. 
A man should judge men's noises at their 
worth. 

Beatrix. To think I ever joined with them 
against you I 

Columbus. Why, what were woman's nature, 
void of fine 
Susceptibility on edge to play 
Society's deft weather-vane? You know 
Society is like the atmosphere : 
Is always round us, and is all alike, — 
All warm in sunshine and all chill in storm. 
And you — you did not see me at the time, 
Surrounded by my friends, but foes. 

Beatrix. If you 

Had heard the talk! 

Columbus. I heard too much of it. 

Beatrix. You found the land though ! 

Columbus. Yes, and such a land! 

Beatrix. As fair as this? 

Columbus. A land of endless May, 

And set in seas transparent as their skies; 
Where every kind of spice, grain, fruit and 

flower 
Teems in green valleys that need not be tilled, 
All crowned on high by mounts, whose gold 

and gems 
Lie on the surface. 



262 COLUMBUS. 

Beatrix. And belong to you! — 

What joy to feel that now it all is over! 
Columbus. All never will be over in this world. 

The great care passes, but trails lesser cares 

That aggregate no less of worry. 
Beatrix. True; 

But when the land was found 

Columbus. One ship was wrecked; 

And twice returning, too, we all seemed lost. 

If so, the whole would have been lost that now 

Is found. 
Beatrix. And then? 

Columbus. I vowed a pilgrimage, 

Wrote out our story. Like the wine it was, 

I sealed it in a cask, and let it float. 
Beatrix. But reached the land! 
Columbus. Yes, first at the Azores 

As wet as fish, too. That was why, perhaps, 

The Portuguese there spread their nets for us, 

And not their tables. 
Beatrix. Nets? 

Columbus. To trap us, yes. 

Beatrix. But why? 
Columbus. To get our charts, resail our course. 

And claim the credit of it. 
Beatrix. They could not 

Have been successful. 
Columbus. Not if we had lived. 

Beatrix. But yet 



COLUMBUS. 263 

Columbus.. No but! Our ship was driven then 
To Portugal itself — by accident, 
Of course: a storm came on — and there the 

court 
Were soft as cats are, when they play with 

mice. 
The fur, though, did not wholly glove the claw, 
Nor cloak a plot to murder us. It failed. 
Instead, Francisco de Almeida sails, 
With secret orders from the envious court, 
To cross the sea, and make our gain his own. 
Beatrix. But Spain will right you, give you 

titles ? — fame ? 

Columbus. You rate them first? 
Beatrix. But wealth will come with them. 
Columbus. If I had worked for these, I had 
not lived 
The Hfe I have. 
Beatrix. If you have not worked for them 

In part, at least, you are not what I thought. 
Columbus. How so!* 

Beatrix. You mean that you could tamely 
waive 
Your rights — your children's too — to fame 
and wealth ? 
Columbus. I see — I had not thought. 
Beatrix. Oh, yes; a mind 

May be so wholly filled with its own thoughts, 
They crowd out thoughts for others. 



264 COLUMBUS. 

Columbus. Think you so? 

I must correct the fault. 
Beatrix. You now have time. 

How sweet to settle down upon 3^our honors! 
Columbus. What, what? — You think I am 

prepared for that? 
Beatrix. You are not young. 
Columbus. No; fifty-eight. 

Beatrix. Not strong. 

Columbus. To-day there came a letter from 
the sovereigns. 
It begs my presence to prepare with them 
A second expedition. 
Beatrix. You to lead it? — 

You will ? 
Columbus. Why not ? 

Beatrix. Why, you have earned 3^our rest. 
Columbus. From whence? — I do not feel it 
given me here. 

{placing his hand on his heart.) 
Beatrix. Are not content yet? — What an 
appetite 
Has man's ambition ! all that gluts to-day 
But bringing greater hunger for the morrow; 
A fire consuming all it feeds upon, 
Still flaming upward and beyond it all. 
Columbus. True ! — but of more than you apply 
it to, — 
Of those desires that are but of the soul. 



COLUMBUS. 265 

I strove to find the Indies. Are they found? 
To plant the cross in all those lands; and yet 
Great lands wait undiscovered. 
Beatrix. Other ships 

Are sure to sail and reach them. 
Columbus. Ay, they may. 

But all that I can know is that the call 
Has come to me. 
Beatrix. Well, well, if you say must, 

Perhaps it must be. Still — if you be needed — 
You think you are — mark one thing: you can 

make 
Your own terms with the sovereigns. 
Enter — Right — Diego. 
Columbus. What? 

Beatrix. Your terms — • 

Demand your rights, and mine — your son's 
and mine. 
Eiiter — Left — a Maid wlio speaks aside to 

Beatrix. 
Diego {aside to Columbus). Ah, nothing like 
a she-hand, skill'd in needles. 
To prick man's vanity, and gown the hurt 
In vain disguises ! When unselfish zeal 
Demands investment in the mail of force. 
He that of old had spirit to inspire 
Swings but a sword that cleaves a scar for 
greed. 
{to Beatrix who is looking toward him.) 



266 COLUMBUS. 

As rich must he be as a king ere long. 
That ought to satisfy you. 
{to Columbus, referring to the crowd outside the 
house.) Yes, I sent 

Them off. 
Beatrix {to the two men, as she turns from talking 
to the Maid). Excuse me for a moment. 
Beatrix bows to Columbus and Diego, 
and they bow to her. As Beatrix 
turns away, Diego continues to talk 
aside to Columbus, shaking his head 
as if disapprovingly. 
Exeunt — Left — Beatrix and Maid. 
Diego {to Columbus, as if continuing a conversa- 
tio?i) . 
Will waive that then. — Now tell me of the 
people. 
Columbus. A noble race, who live there in a 
state 
Almost of Paradise, their wants but few; 
And nature so profuse — I tell you truth — 
They neither toil nor spin. 
Diego. Nor spin? Why how 

About their clothing? 
Columbus. Is not needed. 

Diego. What? 

Columbus. Oh, you get used to that ! 
Diego. Then how about — 

Their character? 



COLUMBUS. 267 

Columbus. Is not so much a thing 

Of clothes as Europeans think, perhaps. 

Diego. But then 

Columbus. The Turks keep faces veiled; turn 
all 
The body into private parts — what for? 
If ill-desire be fruit of thinking, germed 
In curiosity, to clear away 
Some underbrush, and let in light might help 
To blight the marsh-weed, and reveal, besides 
Part of the beauty that brought bliss to Eden. 

Diego. You mean 

Columbus. That nothing like a length of robe, 
Material in substance and suggestion, 
Can stole an anti-spirit-ministry. 
It bags what heaven made that the world may 

deem 
The bag well baited for a game of hell. 

Diego. You talk in riddles. 

Columbus. Read a page or two 

From human nature, they are solved. Out 

there. 
Except with chiefs — it is the same, you know, 
With our high classes — people live in pairs, 
As birds do; and, myself, I saw no hint 
Of lust or competition. They all seem 
To love their neighbors as themselves, and 

own 
All things in common. Why, to us they gave 



268 COLUMBUS. 

Whatever we could ask; and often too 
Without the dimmest prospect of return. 
Diego. They welcomed you? 
Columbus. They thought us fresh from heaven : 
Our flesh was fair; that wide, wild sea our 

slave. 
Oh, what a race to be made Christians of! 
Diego. What for? 

Columbus. Why, only give such men reli- 
gion 

Diego. With lives of love, and welcoming 
guests from heaven — 
Where would you find much more in Christian 
Spain? 

Columbus. Well, but 

Diego. Precisely what I mean — a butt. 

Columbus. You always will be butting some 

thing. 
Diego. Yes, 

A family trait with both of us, I think. 
Were I a man of action like yourself, 
I might not doubt but do. 
Columbus. Not undo, eh? — 

You mean you doubt my statements ? 
Diego. Hardly that, 

But I was thinking 

Columbus. Thinking has its dangers. 

Diego. Yes, but for it I should have been a 
priest. 



COLUMBUS. 269 

At present, am. confessor but to you. 

And my advice is, — not to say to others 

What you have said to me. 
Columbus. Why? 

Diego. It would make 

The world suspect you. 
Columbus. How ? — and what ? 

Diego. Why, say, 

Your faith. 
Columbus. Impossible! God knows — they 
know — 

The purpose of my life. — 
Diego. Your Hfe! But faith — 

Seems not to-day a thing of life, but talk; 

And God — He has not much to do with it. 

A man of faith, is one whose faith in those 

To whom he talks will make him talk their 
thoughts. 

None here will think that what you say can 
be. 
Columbus. Not even you? 
Diego. Why, 3^es, — but yes and no. 

The power that makes imagination burst 

Through limits of our world, as you have 
done, 

To find this new world, makes it pass beyond 
them. 

The glories of that sunset-land may all 

Be in the land you saw, or in the sky. 



270 COLUMBUS. 

Columbus. I see your meaning. 

Enter — Left — B e at ri x . 
Diego. If your mounts of gold too 

Do not come tumbling very speedily 
To fill the itching lap of Spain, why then, 
We know who will be blamed. 
Columbus. Oh, but they will! 

Beatrix. Now, gentlemen, if you will walk in 
here {motioning toward the Left,) 
A luncheon waits : and I have news for you, 
Both bright and black. 
Columbus. Humph ! — nothing bright can come, 
But brings beside it something in the shade. 
Beatrix. The court, so Dona Bobadilla writes. 

Will welcome you in state at Barcelona. 
Diego. Well, that is bright. Now tell us what 

is black ? 
Beatrix. That Pinzon's crew has reached 
Bayonne; and there 
The man has claimed your honors as his 
own. 
Columbus. What perfidy ! — Would make us all 
turn back 
Before we found the land, and after that 
A claim like this ! 
Diego. To herald his delight 

In what he made you do ! — Yet not surprising ! 
The train of genius marshals everywhere 
Distrust before success, and envy after. 



COLUMBUS. 271 

Exeunt — Right — Beatrix, Columbus and 
Diego.] 



Scene Second. — A temporary Pavilion ^ erected 
in front of the royal residence at Barcelona. In 
the extreme background, beyond an open place, 
is the exterior of the house oj Cardinal Mendoza. 
In front of this house, are awnings or curtains, 
which, at the coftclusion of Scene Second, are 
to be lifted or drawn aside in order to prepare 
for Scene Third. To the Right are parts of 
the Palace, to the Left are pillars supporting 
the Pavilion. Within the Pavilion, is an 
elevated platform on which are four throne 
chairs. 

Entrances: — Right Rear — into the open place 
beyond the Palace; Right Front — in front of the 
Palace; Left Rear — open place beyond the Pavil- 
ion; Left, farther forward — between the pillars 
of the Pavilion; and Left Front — at the side of 
the Pavilion. 

The curtain rising reveals the King and 
Queen and Prince Juan, seated upon the 
throne, attended by the dignitaries of their court 
and the principal nobility of Castile, Valentia, 
Catalonia and Aragon; also Gonzalez, Ara- 
NA, FoNSECA, Breviesca and others. The 
royal choir are at the extreme Left Front, and 



272 COLUMBUS. 

Spectators of the more common sort at the Right 
and in the Rear. All seem enthusiastic. 
Music by orchestra and choir, with the following 
words: 

HAIL TO THE HERO, HOME FROM STRIFE. 

Hail to the hero, home from strife. 
Pride of our hearts and hope of our life, 
Hail to his glancing crest and plume. 
Flashed like lightning into the gloom. 
Hail to the grit that, when borne from view, 
Out of the darkness brought him through, 
Sprout of the slough-pit, bud of the thorn, 

After the night 

The light of the morn. 
Crown him v/ith flowers and cull them bright, 
Crown him, the man of the land's delight. 

Hail to the herg, home from strife. 
Pride of our hearts and hope of our life. 
Hail to the ring of the voice that taught 
Drumming and roaring the rhythm of thought. 
Hail to the tone that could change to a cheer 
Groan and shriek of a startled fear, 
Hushing to rills the flood that whirred. 

Chorusing night 

With songs of the bird. 
Shout him a welcome, and shout with might, 
Shout for the man of the land's delight. 

Enter — Right Rear — during the song, the following 
procession: 
First come Soldiers who march across the 



COLUMBUS. 273 

stage to the Left Rear — then halt, 
turn toward the audience, and stand 
on guard at the Rear. Following the 
soldiers, surrounded by a brilliant 
throng of Spanish cavaliers, comes 
Columbus. He is on horseback, but 
dismounts at the entrance of the pavil- 
ion and enters it. As he does so, the 
King, Queen and Prince rise to 
welcome him. Columbus kneels, the 
King instantly takes his hand and 
motions to him to seat himself as they 
do on the slightly elevated platform. 
He is the only one besides the King, 
Queen and Prince who is seated. 
While the King, Queen, and Col- 
umbus continue to talk, there come 
men hearing various kinds of parrots 
together with stuffed birds and animals 
of unknown species and rare plants 
supposed to be of precious qualities. 
A display is also made of Indian 
coronets, bracelets, and other decora- 
tions of gold. Last of all come Indians 
brought from America. They are 
painted according to their savage 
fashion, and decorated with their 
national ornaments. As those who 
are in the procession approach the 
18 



274 COLUMBUS. 

pavilion, each in turn salutes the 
King and Queen, who remain sitting 
as also does Columbus. 
{See Irving' s Columbus: Book V., 
Chapter VI.) 
Enter — Right Front — Diego and Beatrix, and 

stand watching the ceremonies. 

King {just as Columbus seats himself beside 

him) . 

Well done, thou good and faithful servant. 

Queen. Yes, 

The land was where you said it was. 
Columbus. Not more 

Than eighty leagues from where I reckoned it. 
Queen. A rich land too ? 

Columbus {motioning to the attendants who in 

marching past exhibit, as he mentions them, 

the different objects which they are carrying) . 

You see what we have brought: — 

These birds and animals unknown to Spain, 

All promising vast wealth in plumes and furs ; 

These trees and plants that grow like reeds in 

swamps, 
And covered thick as leaves with ready food; 
These aromatic herbs, in which all forms 
Of sickness find a sure and natural cure; 
This gold that lies upon the soil like dust, 
Or else like pebbles tumbling from the cliffs, 
And easily moulded into ornaments; 



COLUMBUS. 275 

These pearls and gems that line the river-beds; 
And these brave people, sons of God like us, 
With generous natures and compliant wills, 
Who met us kneeling, as we knelt on shore. 
With reverent souls prepared by heaven itself 
To welcome us as heavenly messengers; 
And who to be made whole in holiness 
Need but the cleansing water of the church. 
Are these not eloquent beyond the power 
Of mortal lips? 

Queen. They are. 

King. They are. 

All. Yes, yes. 

[Columbus. But what that land contains is in 
supply 
As far beyond the treasure here, as is 
A whole vast continent beyond the store 
That can be packed in one small vessel. Yes, 
That realm of boundless wealth in rock and 

soil 
And boundless progress for the state and soul, 
Past all that human fancy can conceive. 
Lies there, embed in crystal seas and skies, 
A wondrous gift, fresh from the hand of God, 
As if untarnished by the touch of man. 
Awaiting your most Christian Majesties.] 

King {standing, as all do) . Give God the praise. 

People. Thank God. Amen, amen. 

King {to Columbus, who when addressed, 



276 COLUMBUS. 

descends from the platform). You hear 
the people and their whole-souled thanks. 
We but fulfill their wishes, crowning you 
With every proof of royal approbation. 
We now decree that, through all time hence- 
forth, 
You shall be known as Admiral, Viceroy, 
And, if once more you cross the sea for us, 
Commander-General of all armaments. 
And Governor of all realms awaiting there, 
The bearer of the royal seal, with power 
To name your own successor and to will 
Your own inheritance; and evermore 
These arms here are decreed your family. 

Enter — Left Rear — an attendant hearing 
a banner in which the royal arms, the 
castle and lion, are qiiartered with a 
group of islands surrounded by waves 
and under them the motto: 

* ' To Castile afid Leon 
Columbus gave a new world.'" 
{See Irving' s Columbus : Book V., Chapter VII.) 
Diego {at the extreme Right Front — to Beatrix). 

You think he needed all those titles? 
Beatrix. Why? 

Diego. I think they sound like you. 
Beatrix. Well, what of that ? 

He ought to make his own terms with the 
sovereigns, — 



COLUMBUS. 277 

Demand his rights, and mine — my son's and 
mine. 
Diego. When hunting sometimes, I have 
found that birds 
Of brightest plumage are the soonest shot. 
This is a world where many men go hunting. 
KixG {continuhig to Columbus). 

And more than this: of all the ships in Spain 
We authorize your choice of which you will, 
With power to force each captain, pilot, crew, 
Or owner of a vessel, arms or stores, 
To do your bidding; and besides we pledge 
Two-thirds of all the royal revenues 
Derived from our church tithes, and all that 

comes 
From confiscating all the property 
Of all the Jews, whom now, to yield us this, 
We banish from our realm. 
People {with fervor and exultation). 

God bless the king! 
FoNSECA. God bless your Christian Majesties! 
Others. God bless! 

[Columbus. You do me honor, overmuch, I 
fear. 
And I too would give praise where all is due; 
And that with deeds, not words. In view, this 

day, 
Of all the wealth that, with the power you 
sive, 



278 COLUMBUS. 

Is destined now to come to me, I vow 
To raise and arm, inside of twice four years, 
Four thousand horse and twice as many foot, 
And just as many more in five years more, 
To drive to death the heathen Saracen 
And wrest from him the Holy Sepulchre. 
People. Oh, God! we thank thee! 
Others. Glory to the Lord!] 

King. Now let us, all together, seek the 
church. 
And praise Him, as is meet for these vast 

boons 
Vouchsafed to Christian Spain, there to con- 
vert {motioning toward the Indians.) 
By holy baptism these heathen souls. 
Arana {to FoNSECA, exultingly) . 

The day begins when all the earth and all 
Its wealth shall be converted unto us. 
Exeunt — Left — King, Queen, Prince, Colum- 
bus, Courtiers, Indians, etc. 
Exeunt — Right — Diego, Beatrix and others. 
{While the rest are leaving the choir chant as 
follows:) 

Oh soul, what earthly crown 

Is bright as his renown 
Whose tireless race 
Outruns the world's too halting pace, 
To reach beyond the things men heed 
That which they know not of, but need! 



COLUMBUS. 279 

Oh soul, what man can be 

As near to Christ as he 
Who looks to life 
Not first for fame and last for strife; 
But shuns no loss nor pain that brings 
The world to new and better things! 

Exeunt — Left — Choir. 
Awnings in front of the house of Mendoza rise 
revealing Scene Third. 



Scene Third: — Interior of a banqueting hall in 
the house of Mendoza. A table crosses the 
stage at the Rear. Behind it in the Center, on a 
seat slightly raised above the rest, is Columbus. 
At the right end of the table is Mendoza: at the 
left end, Fonseca and Breviesca. Others 
arranged as suits convenience. 

Breviesca {to Fonseca). 

What native here has ever yet received 
Such royal honors? — Why, the sovereigns 

both 
Stood up to greet him, hesitated, too, 
To let him kneel, and sat him in their presence. 

Fonseca. He sat, too, on the throne. 

Breviesca. I never saw 

A Spainard treated thus. 

Fonseca. He takes it all 

As if his due. 



280 COLUMBUS. 

Breviesca. Wait ! — let me put him down — 
In thought, at least. 
{to Columbus, who sits playing with an egg on 
the table.) 
Say, Admiral, do you think 
If you had not made this discovery 
That no one else in Spain here could have done 
it? 
Columbus. That seems a new idea. 
Mendoza. So it is. 

Columbus. I never asked myself about that 
yet — 
Oh, by the way, can any of you here 
Make this thing stand on end? 

(Gonzalez, Breviesca and Fonseca be- 
gin to experiment, as do others, with 
eggs lying on the table near them.) 
Fonseca. An egg? 

Columbus. An egg. 

Mendoza. Can it be done? 
Columbus. Why, yes, you try it. 

Mendoza {trying). No; 

I give it up. 
Fonseca. And I. 

Columbus {to Breviesca). 

You give it up? 
Breviesca. I fail to see how — 
Columbus {setting the egg down on its small 
end with enough force to break the shell 



COLUMBUS. 281 

and make it stand). Now you see it — 
there ! 
Mendoza. Oh ! 
Breviesca. That is nothing ! 
Columbus. Yes, like other things, 

Is easy enough, when once you see it done. 
{Laughter.) 



Curtain. End of Act IV. 



ACT FIFTH. 

Scene First: — A camp on the Island of His- 
paniola, Backing, a clearing, amid woods with 
thick forests in the distance. At the Right and 
Left, trees; at the Left near the Front, the hut of 
Columbus. Entrances at the Right — Rear, 
and Front — between trees; at the Left — Rear, 
behind the hut of Columbus ; farther forward^ 
opening into this hut; and Front, between trees. 
Enter — Right Rear — Escobar and Gamez. 

Escobar. Ojeda, when his boats were on the 
coast, 
Said that at home the Admiral's cause was lost. 
Our notes have reached there. They have 

learned at last, 
How Spaniards, ay, and Spanish nobles too, 
Are lorded over by this foreigner. 

Gamez. And now he has been superseded? 

Escobar. Yes, 

ByBobadilla. 

Gamez. Who is he? 

Escobar. Enough, 

If but a Spaniard. 

282 



COLUMBUS. 283 

Gamez. Strange, though, all the same! 

[Escobar. I hear Breviesca and his bishop there. 
Who was Fonseca, now rule everything; 
That they it was, who got the crown to give 
Ojeda all the Admiral's charts and half 
His rights too ; and would grant indulgences 
Without a stint if they could have their way 
To any here who struck him down. 

Gamez. Why so?] 

Escobar. You never heard about his impu- 
dence, 
When brought before the bishops, years ago? 

Gamez. At Salamanca, yes; but he was right. 

Escobar. Or how he knocked down Breviesca, 
when 
Fonseca's messenger? — Besides, who wants 
To blacken Spain with shade from Genoa? 
Well, Bobadilla's men have come; and when 
His troopers flash in sight here, why, these eyes 
That have been straining so to see them come 
Will scratch some blinks to cure their vision's 
itching. 

Enter — Right Front — an old Indian, and advances 
toward Escobar, who addresses him. 
Humph! Who are you, old cove? — What? — 

Clear the air. 
Stand off a white man's shadow. 

Indian. Me would see 

The Admiral. 



284 COLUMBUS. 

Escobar. Use your eyes then. Are you blind? 

Indian. Me thought you know 

Eriter — Left Rear — Columbus, and listens. 
Escobar. What right had you to think? 
And if we know, is it our business 
To do your errands for you? 
(Indian, seeing Columbus, passes tozuard the 

Left Rear.) 
Gamez (laughingly to Escobar). Settled him. 
Columbus {to Indian). 

What now ? 
Indian {to Columbus). 

Me wants to see you. 
Columbus {motioning toward his cahin). 

Yes, but wait 
In there a moment, please. 
Exit — Left — into the hut of Columbus, the Indian. 
Columbus goes on to Escobar. 

It would be wise 
To keep the red-men friends; and friendship's 

light 
Reflects but what is kindled in ourselves. 
Extinguish it within, and soon without 
We find our world in darkness. — Now, to 

work. 
[The trenches must be dug, and no delay. 
They threaten an attack. 
Gamez. Am I a man 

For work like that? 



COLUMBUS. 285 

Columbus . Like what ? 

Escobar. The work that lets 

These common laborers wipe their dirty paws 
Upon one's coat. 
Columbus. Then take it off. 

Gamez. Ay, ay;. 

And grovel at their level. 
Columbus. Does your rank 

Depend upon your coat? — pray heaven that 

you 
Be born again, a new man and a true one. 
Gamez. You did not promise this work, when 

we sailed. 
Columbus. The Spaniards had not shown their 
lust and greed. 
Defiled the native women, killed the men, 
And, sent in squadrons to preserve the peace,. 
All grasping for the whole of all they saw. 
Beset their comrades like a set of bulls 
Becrimsoned with each other's gore. Mere 

brutes ! 
No wonder they have disenchanted thus 
The people who at first believed them gods.. 
Now get you gone — no waiting ! 

(Columbus turns toward his hut.) 
Escobar {to Gamez, shaking his fist at Colum- 
bus's back) . Yes, until 
We get you gone, which will not take us long.] 
Exeunt — Right — Gamez and Escobar. 



286 COLUMBUS. 

Columbus {going to his cabin and motioning the 
Indian to come out.) 
Well now, my friend, what is it? 
Indian. White man kill 

Our men and steal our women. 
Columbus. Yes — and I? 

Indian. Kill white man. 
Columbus. What? 

Enter — Left Rear — Bartholomew, and stands 

hy Columbus. 

Indian. We Injun call you men 

Great-Spirit-men. Poor Injun when he die, 

When bad go here, when good go there. 

{pointing first down and then up.) 

Columbus. What, you — 

You Indians think this? 
Bartholomew. I shall write that home. 

Is more than some there seem to think. 
Columbus. It is. 

{to Indian.) 
And what of that, my friend? 
Indian. White-spirit-chief 

Send bad men here and good men there. 
{pointing first down and then up.) 
Columbus. I see — • 

Put down thebad, put up the good. Quite right ! 
And I will try to learn the lesson, friend. 
Indian {pointing in a half-frightened way toward 
the Right) . 



COLUMBUS. 287 

Bad man come there. 

(Bartholomew steps toward the Right.) 
Columbus. Humph, humph, please leave us 
then ; 
And wait in here again. 

{motioning toward his hut) 

Exit — Left — into the hut, Indian. Columbus 

turns toward Bartholomew. 

Whom have we coming? 
Bartholomew. A crowd of captives — women, 
as I think. 
The men with them are Roldan's. 
Columbus. Only force 

Can deal with them; — are all old criminals. 
Suppose you bring a guard here. 
Bartholomew. Yes, I will. 

Exit — Left — Bartholomew. 
Enter — Right — Pintor. 
Columbus {to Pintor). Back, Pintor? — ^Who 

are with you? 
Pintor. Household gods. 

Columbus. Whose are they? 
Pintor. Ours. 

Columbus. Oh, yours? — how came they yours? 
Pintor. By right of conquest. 
Columbus. What? 

Pintor. We killed their men. 

Columbus. And left them widows ? 
Pintor. No; we made them brides. 



288 COLUMBUS. 

We thought this kinder than to leave them 
widows. 
Columbus. Law-breakers! 
PiNTOR. Pugh ! with all that you have seized, 

Made slaves of, sent to Spain and sold 

Columbus. But they were captives from our 
foes. 

Enter — Left — Bartholomew, Gutierrez 
and a guard who cross the stage at the 
back, a?id march forward between 
PiNTOR and the Right Side. 
PiNTOR. Well I 

Take any man who flushes red all over, 
As they do when I meet them, for a foe. 
Columbus. The slaves we sent to Spain were 
taken there 
To be made Christians of. 
PiNTOR. And so with us — 

Nice Christians, too; for we shall have them 

washed 
And not made slaves, but take them to our 

homes. 
And let them lead a free and easy life. 
[Columbus. You fail to see the danger? Why, 
their tribe 
Will massacre us all; if not, your vices 
Will bring you hell here, even while you live. 
PiNTOR. You know my story — was condemned 
to death — 



COLUMBUS. 289 

For nothing, though — and then the court 

decreed, 
Instead of this, that I should come out here; 
And if I make it hell, it seems to me, 
In hell is where they want me.] 
Columbus {to Gutierrez). Take this man, 
Remove his arms, and march him to the 

works. 

{To PiNTOR.) 

Hereafter keep a hold upon your tongue. 
[PiNTOR. Ay, Senior; but be not so hard on 
me. 

This land needs peopling.] 
Exit — Left — Gutierrez and Soldiers with 

PiNTOR. 

[Bartholomew. And will need it more, 

If Spain send more of those vile wretches here. 
We all may be killed off. 
Columbus. And rightly so. 

Bartholomew. Had I my way, a brute forever 
kicking 
Against the law should go in bit and bridle; 
Ay, ay, to see a surgeon too. A touch 
Of horse-play — there were cuttings that would 

cure him 
And all his kind. The best should let their 

land 
Be peopled only by the best. 
Columbus. That might 

19 



290 COLUMBUS. 

Be wise; but where, pray, would you find the 

best?] 
No man can tell which curse a country most ; — • 
Its gentlemen who feel above all work; 
Or workmen so far down they feel beneath 
All obligation to be gentlemen. 
As for the first, heaven grant they soon find 

out 
That this new world is not a place for 

them. 
As for the second, if we plan no way 
To keep them on the other side the sea, 
Farewell to all the good we hope for here. 

[Enter — Lejt — Gutierrez . 
What now? 
Gutierrez {handing Columbus a note). 

We found this when we searched him. 
Columbus. Ay? 

It seems not mine. 
Gutierrez. Perhaps it might be well 

For you to read it. 
Columbus {reading it). 

So?— I will. Why, why? 
{to Bartholomew.) 
Bartholomew, a new conspiracy! 
Bartholomew. But that man could not write. 
Columbus. Oh no; not he! 

He merely carries it from one who can. 
{handing the note to Bartholomew.) 



COLUMBUS. 291 

This time, it seems the high and low will meet, 

And we, between them, will be crushed. 

Bartholomew {threateningly). Perhaps. 

Columbus. It speaks about another fleet in 

port. 

I thought the treachery that had given my 

charts 
And right to govern islands west of here 
To Pinzon and Ojeda was enough. 
This tells of one who claims a jurisdiction 
In our own island. 
Bartholomew. Bobadilla, yes. 

What will you do? 
Columbus. Divide and conquer. 

{To Gutierrez.) Here! 
Gutierrez. Ay, ay. 

Columbus. To chains with all those named in 
this. 
{handing Gutierrez the note.) 
The most should be at home now. Be alert. 
Exit — Left — Gutierrez. 
{to Bartholomew.) 
Bartholomew, the rest of those condemned 
For sharing in that last conspiracy, 
Whom our too willing clemency had spared, 
Should be brought out to-day and shot. 

Bartholomew. But then 

Columbus. I see no other way. When naercy 
fails 



292 COLUMBUS. 

The cause is lost that does not call on justice.] 
{Noises outside.) 

What noise is that — a riot? 
Bartholomew {who with Columbus looks toward 

the Right). No; — are cheers. 
Columbus. You make them out? 
Bartholomew. Why, all the town is there ! 

And look — our prisoners too ! 
Columbus. What — those condemned 

To death ? 
Bartholomew. Ay, ay; and have the leader- 
ship; 

And with them — can it be? — it is! there come 

The San Domingo traitors. 
Columbus. Is that so? 

{looking toward the Left.) 

Here, here ! 

Enter — Left — Gutierrez with the Soldiers. 

Ay, steady now. Stand there. On guard. 
Bartholomew {still looking toward the Right) . 

They halt, consulting.— What? Can that 
be he? — 

Velasquez, our sub-treasurer! Not so? 

Juan de Travierra, too! 
Columbus. How strange ! 

Why, they were friends — and yet 

Bartholomew. Have left the rest — 

Are coming here. 
Columbus. Alone? 



COLUMBUS. 293 

Bartholomew. I think so. 

Columbus. Yes. — 

[But how to solve now what it means ! — Can 
you? 
Bartholomew. Who could? — The others have 

begun to follow. 
Columbus. Aha! They think that these will 
seem our friends ; 
And make an opening through which all can 

enter. 
What keener point could treachery find to 

edge 
Its wedge of enmity, than long-tried friend- 
ship? {to the Guard.) 
Make ready. — Wait.] 

Enter — Right — Velasquez and another 
officer. They bow and Columbus 
addresses them. 

Well, have you business here? 

Velasquez. We have been sent 

Columbus. True men are never sent 
By their inferior. They will face him down; 
And not turn tail like driven beasts of burden. 
Velasquez. You do not know our message. 
Columbus. One may judge 
A message from its messengers. I see 
A crowd of common criminals. Were they 
Set free by you, yourselves are criminals. 
Velasquez. Your pardon; but 



294 COLUMBUS. 

[Columbus. You should have asked for that 
Before you freed your pals there. No one 

here 
Has any right to pardon men but me. 

Velasquez. But you mistake ] 

Columbus. I am the Viceroy. 

Traitors to him are traitors to the king. 
Velasquez. You may not be this now. 
Columbus. What mean you? 

Velasquez {handing him an official paper of 
which he holds many). Here, 
Is from the court. 
Columbus {taking and reading it). 

An outrage! Yet but gives 
This Bobadilla — ^who? and what is he? — 
Authority to make investigations. 
Insulting ! — There is here no grant 
For freeing captives that have been con- 
demned. 
Velasquez {handing Columbus another roll). 

They sent another paper. 
Columbus {receiving and reading it). 

That I yield 
All arms and ships and royal property — 
Yes, yes, if the investigation warrants — 
It will not though. 
Velasquez. Ah, but he says it does. 

Columbus. It does? Why, I have never seen 
this man. 



COLUMBUS. 295 

Velasquez. He has investigated. 

Columbus. What? 

Velasquez. Your papers. 

Columbus. My papers? — Which and where? 

Velasquez. Those in your house. 

Columbus. He entered that ? 

Velasquez. He lives there. 

Columbus. In my house? — 

And reads m}^ private papers ? 

Velasquez. They were found, 

While carrying out his other orders. 

Columbus. More? 

Velasquez {handing other papers to Columbus). 
Yes, these. 

Columbus {receiving and reading them). 

That I should pay all wages due 
With all arrears for royal services — 
What then? 

Velasquez. He takes them from your prop- 
erty. 

Columbus. Without a word to me? — Why this 
means ruin! 
And who decides the claims? — a man without 
The means or inclination, as it seems, 
To know the truth? — whose first official act 
Is making friends by setting traitors free? 
And violating both the laws of Spain 
And common courtesy? — It is too much. 
Away, and tell him I defy him. Say, 



296 COLUMBUS. 

With all the rabble that are back of him, 
Enough are here yet that are loyal still 
To Spain and me, to crush one traitor more. 
Velasquez. I fear the loyal must be all against 
you. 
{handing Columbus another paper.) 
Read this : — a royal patent that invests 
This Bobadilla with all power and right 
Of governing these islands. 
Columbus {looking at the paper). Royal seals? 
It cannot be — but yet — 

(handing the paper to Bartholomew.) 

Can it be true ? 
I knew that we had enemies; but not 
That they could be so powerful. 
Bartholomew. Shall we fight ? 

Columbus. It might be useless; and it must be 
wise 
To keep the right, when with us, with us yet. 
No; let us yield. My brother, there are times 
When wrongs are great that they may be 

perceived, 
And emphasize the need of their redress. 
[{turning to Gutierrez and the Guard.) 
My men, this royal patent takes from me 
The government; bestows what powers were 

mine 
On Bobadilla. All the loyalty 
Once shown to me, for which my gratitude 



COLUMBUS. 297 

Will always thank you, now belongs to him. 
Gutierrez. No, never. 
Guard. No.] 

Enter — Right — Sanchez, Soldiers, Escobar, 
Gamez and a rabble. 
Enter — Left — Pintor. 
[Columbus. It seems the sovereign's will. 

Help me by sharing with me what I bear. 

(to Velasquez.) 
Inform the governor we await his wishes.] 
Velasquez. There is another order. 
Columbus. Eh? 

Velasquez. Is with 

This officer, (gesturing toward Sanchez.) 
Sanchez (advancing slowly toward Columbus). 
My orders — not desire. 
Columbus. Am I to die for serving Spain so 

well? 
Sanchez (to both Columbus and Bartholomew). 

Not that — Your swords. 
Columbus (as he and Bartholomew give up 
their swords, as does also Gutierrez). 

But worse than that! — What next? 
Sanchez (motioning to a Soldier who brings 
forward some handcuffs.) 
I act but for the court. 
Columbus. Are those for me ? 

What crime have I committed? 
Sanchez. I know none. 



298 COLUMBUS. 

Columbus. I said I would submit. You 
doubt my word? 
Or courage ? — or persistency ? — or what ? 
Sanchez. You must return to Spain. 
Columbus. In chains? — Who dares 

To place them on me? 

{looking at Sanchez and his Guard.) 
Sanchez {hesitating and looking around). 

There are large rewards 
For him that does it. They are offered. — 

Speak, {to Columbus.) 
We all are friends, you see. 
PiNTOR. {taking the handcufs.) Not all; not all! 
Here, let me have them, boys — am used to 

them. 
A fair man gives what he receives, not so? 

{puts them on Columbus.) 
Here, curse you! Now fall overboard, and 

these 
Will sink you, as we meant to, years ago. 
{turning to Bartholomew and fastening another 
pair on him.) 
Now you too. 
Rabble. Ho, ho, ho! 

Columbus {to Bartholomew). Bartholomew, 
A single bracelet is enough, men think, 
To show a common gratitude. But we. 
Why, we have two ! They think their debt 
To us a doubled one ! How it will thrill 



COLUMBUS. 299 

Ambition in the future sons of Spain 
To learn what badges of true servitude 
Await the souls that serve her best. We, we 
Who made of Spain the Empress of the West, 
Have weightier honors waiting us, — to be 
The slaves that, crushed to earth, will pedestal 
The towering contrast of her sovereignty. 
Exeunt — Left — Sanchez, his Soldiers, Colum- 
bus and Bartholomew. 
Exeunt — Left and Right — Omnes. 



Scene Second: — A room belonging to a house in 
Seville. Near the Left entrance a chair or two 
and a sofa with one end raised on which to rest 
the head. 

Entrances — at the Right — and Left. 
{Enter — Right — Diego and Beatrix.) 

Diego. You must not talk about his poverty. 

Beatrix. Why not ? 

Diego. Will kill him. 

Beatrix. I am nursing him. 

Diego. Yes, all that grows toward death. 

Beatrix. If he had been 

Content, — had left the land to others, when 
Once found 

Diego. What? Can a mother leave her child, 
When born — no more? Far less the land he 
sought, 



300 COLUMBUS. 

Than those grand hopes that he had based on 

it 
As a foundation. 

Beatrix. These he might have watched 

As well at home here. 

Diego. Why, I thought it you 

Who urged him on to wealth. The wealth 

was there. 
And how about those titles? All of them 
Were labels not of use unless he sailed. 

Beatrix. Why did he use them arbitrarily? 

Diego. Less use than their possession gave 
offense. 
Besides, we men are trained in government 
As well as manners. And the curse of force 
Is that its own mean methods keep alive 
Its first excuse for being. Tyranny 
May make of chaos order; but, when throned, 
Knows not a subject that is not a slave. 
Would one of those o'er whom my brother 

ruled, 
Have bent the knee to an authority 
Not ermined in the old familiar guise 
Of arbitrariness? 

Beatrix. Had he conceived 

How all would end ! 

Diego. It could not be conceived. 

Beatrix. But you conceived it. 

Diego. I? 



COLUMBUS. 301 

Beatrix. Why yes. You spake 

Of envy sure to follow. 

Diego. Did I so ? 

[Beatrix. And it came true — as often so with 
you — 
Not that I like you better for it, though. 

Diego. My words come true, eh? — One might 
think they would; 
So few regard them ! It is one sure test 
Of prophets that they prophesy in vain. 

Beatrix. You might have urged your bro- 
ther 

Diego. Oh, not I! 

I never urge myself. 

Beatrix. But when you know 

Diego. Imagine only — not the same as know- 
ing! 
Imagination dreams : its dreams anon 
May leap Time's processes, or keen-eyed, spy 
The end from the beginning. Yet such 

dreams 
Come but to him so stirred in sympathy 
With nature's courses, or inspired in aim 
For nature's goals, or swept on by its force, 
That sheer inertia of the soul outspeeds 
The pace of grosser matter. 

Beatrix. And to you 

At times 

Diego. The times come seldom. Ay, not oft 



302 COLUMBUS. 

Do fancy's flowers foretoken fruit; not oft 
Is ripe fruit laden on the limbs that bloom 
Most brilliant with the flowers. — Yet have I 

seen it, — 
Imagination imaging true life, 
Life true to all its images; and then 
I found a seer, earth's rarest product. 
Beatrix. That 

Is what some say that you are. 
Diego. To be true 

To life, when all the men that have life doubt 

me 

I ought to join with them, and doubt myself. 

Beatrix. In that you are not like your brother. 

Diego. No; 

With him quick action follows on the thought. 

With me come only talk, and then more 

thought. 
He mounts to find success. I prophesy — 
Perhaps; but where success is, at my best, 
Am only of the crowds that cheer it. 

{looking to the Left.) Here 
He comes, poor man — his faithful sons too. 

How 
I love them for their faithfulness ! Alas, 
How fast he fails ! If there were once a time 
We feared he might be wrecked, a time has 

come 
When his firm spirit reels, the prey of waves 



COLUMBUS. 303 

Far worse than waves that sweep the sea 

alone. 
Such havoc has fierce envy wrought in him, 
What wonder if soon nature, in revolt, 
Should doff the guise this world has torn to 

rags 
And give him something richer ?] 

Enter — Left — Columbus, attended by his 
two sons, Young Diego, a man, and 
Fernando, a youth. Columbus 
with help is seated on the sofa. Diego 
continues to Columbus. 

Well, what news? 

Columbus. A new world has been found of 

boundless wealth ; 

And he who found it, finds himself a beggar. 

A king and queen were throned o'er that new 

world. 
Who throned them there, they seized and 
bound in chains. 
Diego. Oh, yes ; but then the chains were taken 

off. 
Columbus. A nation has been made the first 
on earth. 
Who made it this, for this deed has been made 
The last in all that nation — not one shred 
Of all his property, or power, or rank, 
Stripped by injustice from him, when well 
proved 



304 COLUMBUS. 

To be injustice, has been given back. 

His name he leaves dishonored, and his heirs 

Inherit nakedness. 
Beatrix. Yes, that is it. 

You see if he 

Diego {gesturing violently to silence Beatrix). 

Not now. The time will come 

Beatrix {aside to Diego). 

Oh, when you prophesy I always fear 

That you will prophesy some ill of me. 
Exit — Right — Beatrix. 
Diego {to Columbus). 

Nay; nothing now can dim your well-earned 
fame. 
Columbus. A man who gave his life for what to 
all 

Appeared impossible, attained it, then 

Found charts and notes that told the story, 
stolen, 

And that which was his own discovery, 

Called not by his own name but by another's. 
Diego. Yes, it is very strange. 
Columbus. So very strange 

It seems that when I think it can be true, 

I pause to listen for the morning bells 

To wake me from a dream. 
Diego. It is a dream. 

The force that keeps eternal worth from light 

Is but of time — a thing: short-lived 



COLUMBUS. 305 

Columbus. I know — 

Were it not for my children. 

Young Diego. They are proud 

Of one who, all his life-time, has kept faith 
With his own soul, however left alone. 

Columbus. Alone, and yet not lonely. Be one 
true 
To his own mission, he is in the ranks 
With all that move toward all good ends that 

wait, {looking at his sons.) 
And but for you — think not I lived my life 
To beg men for a badge to brag about ! 
Enough, if I have been an influence. 

Diego. Ay, that is all that God is. 

Columbus. God? 

Diego. Yes, God. 

What voice, or face, or form, or robe, or crown, 
Or throne attests His Presence? Who can 

trust 
And serve mere outward, sensuous things like 

these. 
And not be, all through life — ay, out of it 
And even after death — a slave to sense, 
No brother of the Christ, no son of God? 

(Columbus suddenly falls back upon the sofa.) 

Fernando. See — he is fainting ! 

Young Diego. Help him! 

Diego. What is this? 

Why, Christopher! 



30 6 COLUMBUS. 

{To the sons as they bend over Columbus.) 

Go, call a doctor — priest 1 
Exeunt — Left — the two sons. 
Columbus (reviving and pointing toward the 
center of stage) . 
The new worid — you must watch it — it will 

grow. 
Hark — there are words I hear — and look — 

Felipa ! 
Lord, to thy hands I commit my spirit. 

(Columbus sinks in death supported by 
Diego, who does not seem to notice 
what follows, being wholly absorbed 
in attending to Columbus.) 



Scene Third : — The curtain forming the back of 
Scene Second rises disclosing at the Left the 
same convent chapel a7td wall that occupy that 
place in Act First, Scene First. The convent 
wall, however, extends across the stage to the 
Right, and the whole Sceiie is backed by a dis- 
tant view of a fertile, cultivated, and populous 
country, including mountains and valleys, 
rivers spanned by bridges, and low lands filled 
with towns and cities, — all representing the 
present condition of the western continent. 
Near the entrance of the chapel, stands Felipa, 
gazing toward this land, while, by a choir unseen 



COLUMBUS. 307 

within the chapel, the same hymn is chanted as 
that with which the drama opens, as follows: 

O Life divine, from thee there springs 

All good that germs and grows; 
Thy Light behind the sunlight brings 

The harvests to their close. 

O, Life divine, thou art the source, 

Of truth within the soul ; 
Thou art the guide through all the course 

That leads it to its goal. 

O, Life divine, what soul succeeds 

In aught on earth but he 
Who moves as all desires and deeds 

Are lured and led by thee. 

Curtain. 



CECIL THE SEER. 



309 



CECIL THE SEER. 



INTRODUCTION. 

To determine aright the relations that should exist between 
form and spirit is to solve the most important, perhaps, of 
human problems. Ideally, of course, the one should be a 
perfect expression of the other ; but, in this world, nothing is 
ideal or perfect ; and in nothing is the fact more clearly ex- 
emplified than in the frequent failure of a form to represent 
that which, apparently, it exists for the sole purpose of repre- 
senting. To recognize, and, so far as possible, to remedy 
this condition, are primal obligations of intelligence ; and 
this fact justifies the extensive treatment of the subject which 
has characterized the literature of all periods. Such treat- 
ment, however, cannot go to the bottom of its possibilities 
without considering relations that are distinctively religious ; 
for it is religion that most imperatively demands that the form 
be a truthful expression of the spirit. But forms which, as in 
the Second Act of the following drama, are to be turned inside 
out in order to reveal their inadequacies, must, of themselves, 
be forms in connection with which such inadequacies are unex- 
pected. Otherwise the whole portrayal will be too common- 
place to warrant attention. It will be perceived, therefore, 
that the selection of religious characters for the drama was 
justified by the requirements of the theme ; and also that the 
use which is made of these characters is not intended to dis- 
credit religion as a whole. Indeed, only those can recognize 
the full significance of the presentation who also recognize 
that the incongruities indicated are not of ordinary occurrence. 

Again, the suggestions derivable from a subject like that 
311 



312 CECIL THE SEER, 

treated in Cecil the Seer, in order to appear generally applic- 
able, need to be drawn from a general survey of all the possi- 
bilities of form ; and it is for this reason, and not because of 
a desire to disparage any particular form, that such religious 
characters were selected as are typical of the remotest ex- 
tremes of the narrow and the broad in theory and of formalism 
and non-conformity in practice. The inconsistencies suggested 
do not arise because any one form of religion invariably tends 
to self-deception, but because, in certain circumstances, all or 
any forms may tend in this direction. A sufficient motive for 
portraying the fact is that only in the degree in which a man 
has a practical recognition of it can he exercise that discern- 
ment, or be controlled by that principle, which should char- 
acterize the spiritual life. 

With reference to the Second Act of the drama, it may not 
be out of place to say that the underlying conception of it is 
in strict accordance with human experience. Not a few, but 
many, who, through accident or disease, have, for a compara- 
tively long period, lost consciousness, and have again been 
restored to it, have borne witness that, while in the subcon- 
scious state, their minds seem to have been employed in 
developing exclusively the last thought impressed upon them 
before passing into the state. In unfolding the details neces- 
sitated by this general conception, it is enough to say that it 
would not have been in accordance with the practice of the 
author had he not carefully and consistently sought to conform 
them to that which is most universal in the testimony given 
by those supposed to be in such states, or in corresponding 
ones produced in accordance with what are termed psychic 
methods. How much absolute truth one is justified in assign- 
ing to testimony thus obtained — from that of Swedenborg 
downward — no one, perhaps, can decide with authority ; but 
there must be some reason why the general tendencies of the 
statements made — as applied to things reported as heard or 
seen, not to the testifier's explanations of them — virtually 



CECIL THE SEER. 313 

coincide. The suggestion that there may be such a reason is 
enough to make a man pause and think, and to do this 
whether he surmise that the testimony, because coming through 
the subconscious, reveals the results of extraneous revelation, 
or only because, coming from the subconscious, it reveals the 
results of universal intuition. It is true, too, that at the end 
of many years of pausing and thinking, he may not have been 
able to make out beyond dispute the source of that which he 
is considering ; but one thing he can always do, and from the 
very first : He can compare the import of that which is 
received with the results, in his own mind, of a combination 
of previous information, spiritual insight, and rational infer- 
ence. Whatever, in its general outlines, coincides with these 
results will have for him, and must have — his mind cannot 
prevent it — the authority of truth. But exactly the same may 
be affirmed of statements which have the authority of truth 
when communicated through the forms of poetry. Could 
there be given any better reason — or excuse if needed — for 
letting the thought of this drama be borne on as a result of 
yoking together the poetic and the psychic ? 



PLACE AND TIME. 

Act First : In a Southern " Border State " of the American 
Union, a little before the War for Secession. 
An evening party at the home of the Cecils. 
Scene: A large hall with glimpses beyond it 
of a parlor and a porch. 

Act Second : Scenes First and Third : Interior of a sick 
chamber. Scene Second : A grove representing 
the surroundings of a dream or trance. 

Act Third: In a Northern " Border State "just at the open- 
ing of the War for Secession. Scene First : The 
interior of the home of Freeman and Celia ; 
Sceng Second : A village green in front of Free- 
man's house, at one side of which the porch of 
his house is visible. 



315 



Is this a revelation ? 

Ay, to those 
Who heed the truth behind the words I use ; 
And yet for those who heed this truth themselves 
I do not need to term it revelation. 

Cecil the Seer, II, 2r 

All life on earth 
Is girt ivith warfare, rvhere the light of heaven 
That brings each new days liberty and truth 
Contends with darkness, and there is no peace. 
Our very bodies are but phantoms formed 
Of that same darkness that we must oppose. 
And we must fight, if nothing else, ourselves. 

Idem, III, e. 



316 



CHARACTERS. 



Cecil. Professor in a College, a Candidate for the 

highest Judicial Office of the State, to 
be appointed by its Governor and con- 
firmed by its Senate. Also a particular 
friend and the instructor of Celia. 

Kraft. Head Politician of the ruling party of the 

State, and a particular friend of Madam 
Cecil. Celia has been the adopted 
daughter of his deceased wife. 

Freeman. A young Law Student, friend of Cecil and 

Celia, and in love with Faith Hycher. 

Blaver. Religious Exhorter, and Head of the Pro- 

hibition party of the State. Particular 
friend of Miss Primwood. 

Father Hycher. Head of the Church party of the State 
who wish to obtain a division of the 
School Fund. Uncle of Faith Hycher, 
and particular friend of Widow Hycher, 
his sister-in-law. 

Lowe. A Quaker, representing a syndicate of rail- 

way monopolists who are pushing a plan 
for appropriating and improving a part 
of the chief city of the State. 

Jem. a colored servant. 

317 



318 



CHARACTERS. 



Celia. Adopted daughter of deceased wife of 

Kraft. Pupil and particular friend of 

Cecil; also friend of Freeman. 
Madam Cecil. Wife of Cecil, particular friend of Kraft. 
Faith Hycher. In love with Freeman, niece of Father 

Hycher and step-daughter of Widow 

Hycher. 
Miss Primwood. Principal of a Female Seminary, particular 

friend of Blaver. 
Widow Hycher. Step-mother of Faith Hycher, particular 

friend of her brother-in-law, Father 

Hycher. 
Madam Lowe. Quakeress, wife of Lowe. 
MiLLY. A colored servant. 



A Physician, Choristers, Promenaders, Dancers, 
Populace, Ruffians, Detectives, Militia, and 
Gentlemen. 



CECIL THE SEER, 



ACT FIRST. 

Scene: An evening party at the home of the Cecils. 
A parlor with windows at the hack where hang 
long heavy curtains. Backing at the Right, ex- 
tending diagonally across the stage, a wide door- 
way, beyond which is a glimpse of another large 
room. Further forward on the Right, a small 
table about which are chairs and, nearby, an 
alcove containing an apparently half hidden 
sofa. Backing at the Left, extending diagonally 
across the stage, a wide doorway, beyond which 
is a glimpse of another room. 

Entrances: Right and Left, through 
doorways, at both sides and in both 
the Rear and the Front. 
The rising curtain reveals Freeman and 
Father Hycher sitting in the alcove^ 
and couples walking to and fro. 
Father Hycher. My standards are the stand- 
ards of the world. 
319 



320 CECIL THE SEER. 

Freeman. I know it. 

Father H. You were questioning 

Freeman. Their truth. 

[Father H. {slowly and sarcastically). 

Your name is Freeman. 
Freeman. It defines me, yes. 

Father H. You think fidelity to man can grow 

From germs of infidelity to God? 

You think that questioning the forms men 
most 

Esteem, proves high esteem for men them- 
selves ? 

You think in one that weds, or vows to wed, 

To love a third one proves true love for all ? 

Freeman. That all depends on what he does. 

Father H. And that ? 

Freeman. On what he is. Why ask these 

things of me? — 

And here ? 
Father H. Why should I not? We see so 
much 

In scenes like this! 
Freeman. Oh no! — You mean so little.] 

The forms we see are puppets of a play, 

A dull play too ! Though seek what pulls the 
string, 

No longer is it dull. A button breaks, 

A veil falls off 

Father H. Too bad to hope for that ! 



CECIL THE SEER. 321 

Freeman. Too bad, if lives be bad! If not, 
too good ! 
Some things that on the outside seem profane, 
Upon the inside may be sacred. 
Father H. Ah? 

Freeman. The converse too is true. 
Father H. (haughtily). You mean to say? — 

{Music starts.) 
Freeman {rising, as does Father Hycher). 
That all should watch the play, and not forget 
That they themselves are part of it. 
Father H. Oh, yes. 

Exit — Right Front — after bowing to Freemany 
Father H. (Freeman sits, then, 
rising, moves toward the Left. Part of 
the following chorus is sung to the 
accompaniment of a piano apparently 
in the rooms beyond the Left Rear. 
During the singing certain of those 
upon the stage, or entering from its 
various entrances, dance to the music.) 

We live but for bubbles, and those who know 
The way of the world their bubbles will blow. 
Ay, all but whose doino:s are fated to be 
No more than are drops in an infinite sea. 
Will blow them, and show them, till, by and by, 
They fill and float to the air on high; 
Hoho ! hoho ! and the world will thus 
Know how big a bubble can come from us. 

3' 



322 CECIL THE SEER. 

We live but for bubbles that grow and glow 
The bigger and brighter the more we blow; 
And, borne on the breath of the breeze around 
Wherever the tides of the time are bound, 
There is nothing of earth or of heaven in sight 
But they image it all in a rainbow light; 
Hoho! hoho! and the world will thus 
Know how bright a bubble can come from us. 

We live but for bubbles a-dance in the blast, 

But who can tell how long they will last? 

So swell your cheeks, and puff, and fan, 

And make the most of them while you can, 

For if ever the breath in them fail, they will pop. 

And only the drizzles to dry as they drop ; 

Hoho! hoho! and the world will thus 

Be done with the bubbles that come from us. 



Enter — Left Rear — during the singing, 
Faith. She meets Freeman and, 
after a time, they sit in the alcove at 
the Right. 
Exeunt — at different Entrances — the dan- 
cers or singers. 
Faith. This night seems like a fete in fairy- 
land. 
That singing proves it so. I like to see 
Our Cecil circled by the people singing. 
Freeman. You note its meaning then? 
Faith. What? 

Freeman. Cecil-worship. 



CECIL THE SEER. 323 

[Faith. And worship is the interest men pay 
For worth when they can get it — justly due 
To men of principle. 

Freeman. And how of women ? — 

This Madam Cecil is the priestess here. 
The fee is hers; and he, the puppet-idol.] 

Faith. How so? 

Freeman. Our state is lacking a Chief Justice. 

Faith. And what of that? 

Freeman. His is a high position. 

[She, who is always looking upward, sees it. 

Faith. That may be ; but you spoke of worship. 

Freeman. Why,] 

If any idol's niche be tenantless, 
The one all worship is the one all want there. 

Faith. Oh yes! — and Madam Cecil 

Freeman. Drawing hither 

The undirected flow of current thought, 
Though little rills, may find them, all together, 
Enough to float the bark of her ambition. 
You see this house — and she herself — are 

gems. 
For setting, gems need gold. Her husband 

earns 
By teaching in the college, at the most. 
No gold to spare; and, even did she hope, 
From her own managing, no perquisites 

[Faith. What perquisites? 

Freeman. The kind that make us call 



324 CECIL THE SEER. 

A public man "His Honor," lest the world 
Might fail to recognize it, if not labeled.] 
Faith. Will Cecil get the place? 
Freeman. The governor 

May nominate him ; but the senators 
Can scarcely be expected to confirm, 
Without some reason not upon the surface, 
A man so young and inexperienced. 
Faith. But he is worthy of it. 
Freeman What is worth 

With those that she will try to get to push 

him? 
Their favors must be paid for. Most have 

suits 
They sue for in the law-courts. Think you 

Cecil, 
An upright, downright and straightforward 

nature, 
Will twist and smirk with twenty different 

faces 
The twenty different ways that these would 
have him? 
Faith. It were a brilliant chance! 
Freeman. Yes, far too brilliant 

For moths to meet with, and escape a scorching. 
No wick-light dazzles him. He knows the 
sun. 
Faith {looking toward the Left). 
Look — Madam Cecil now — 



CECIL THE SEER. 3^5 

Freeman {rising). And angels too, 

They say, draw near us when we talk of them. 

Faith {also rising). With her comes Kraft. 

Freeman. The ruler of his party, — 

Controls the governor. 

Faith. Ah ! And Cecil, then, — 

Are he and Kraft such friends? 

Freeman. No ; she and Kraft, 

A man whom she so floods with flattery 
That his half drowned, asphyxied reason raves 
Past all resisting her. Beside this too, 
He means, they say, to seat that son of his 
In Cecil's present chair. Your men that rule, 
When others hold the place that they would 

fill. 
Tramp an inferior, and push off an equal; 
But if some scheme they basely brew be 

spoiled 
By one above them, — they are left no option; 
But, like a cover, they must lift him higher. 
So, by their very righteousness, you see 
The righteous force their foes to do them 

justice. 
Exeunt — Right Front — Freeman and Faith. 

Enter — Left Rear — Kraft with Madam Cecil. 

Madam C. Your charming son — 

Kraft. Gains charms from you who say that— 

Madam C. And with his noble brow, and eyes, 
and manners — 



326 CECIL THE SEER. 

Kraft. Yes ; he is like his — mother. 
Madam C. Why, my friend, 

His mien, his manner are as like to yours, 
As ever were the echoes of a wood 
To singing of a woodsman. 
Kraft. Oh, you flatter! 

[Madam C. And pardon, if I add both have 

their music. 
Kraft. No, no; but Madam Cecil, you do 

flatter! 
Madam C. Not half so much, my good friend, 
as your mirror. 
When you but face — 
Kraft {looking at her intently). 

And find it very bright? — 
But now, about my son: I think — I think — 
Madam C. What I think. Do we ever dis- 
agree?] 
Kraft. I wish your husband could be led — 
Madam C. You think 

He cannot then? 
Kraft. Why that depends — 

Madam C. On whom? — 

A good judge is a man whose judgments you 
Approve. 
Kraft {hawing to her) . Thanks for your interest. 
Enter — Left — Mr. Blaver with Miss Prim- 
wood. 
Madam C. {continuing to Kraft) . Why that 



CECIL THE SEER. 327 

Becomes me, — does it not? — Have you not 

said 
I always do, as well as wear, the thing 
That seems becoming? — and the principal 
(touching Kraft with her Jan; then pointing it 
toward herself.) 
Should always draw its interest. Not so? — 
{turning to speak to Miss Primwood and Blaver, 
who carries a pamphlet in his hand.) 
Miss Primwood, ah ! Good-evening — You too, 
Deacon : 
{All how. Kraft talks aside to Miss Primwood. 
Madam Cecil continues to Blaver, 
tapping his pamphlet with her fan.) 
We read your little prohibition tracts. 
Blaver. Yes? — Thanks. — Yet, as you say, 

they are but little. 
Madam C. The littlest diamond in this ring I 
wear 
Is better for my humble, human use, 
Than a whole world of dust whirled in a star 
Set in an orbit out beyond my reach. 
Blaver. If, in some humble way, my tracts do 

good — 
Madam C. The littlest bird-track, sometimes, 
in the sand 
May make one think of wings flown out of sight. 
Blaver. If only mine would — wings of progress, 
wings — 



328 CECIL THE SEER. 

Madam C. Ah, but your cause is right. 
Blaver. Yes, all our pleas 

Are based upon religion. Yet you know 
The lower courts are hostile. 
Exeunt — Left — Miss Primwood ayid Kraft. 
Madam C. Right must win. 

[Blaver. You think so? — The professor too?— 
Madam C. {assuming an air of disparagement). 

Come, come; 
No man should anchor trust in such as he, 

Why your opponents never 

Blaver (eagerly). Would support him? — 

They never would? 
Madam C. How could they? Do you know, 
That only last night, when some friends were 

here 
And talking of the governorship, he said 
Our next might be a prohibitionist. 
Blaver {greatly pleased, rubbing his hands). 
Is that so? Really!— Is that so? Why, 

why ! — ] 
Enter — Right Rear — Father Hycher with 
Widow Hycher. 
Madam C. {noticing them). But there comes 
Father Hycher — 

( insinuatingly to Blaver.) 

Do you think 
A man, religious truly, will not win 
When battling for a cause that is religious? 



CECIL THE SEER. 329 

(Madam C. and B layer how to Father 
H. and Widow Hycher. Blaver 
talks aside to Widow H. and, with 
her, presently, exits at the Left — 
Madam C. continues talking to 
Father Hycher.) 
You act like saints we read of in the legends, 
With holy air about them. As you enter, 
Our thoughts turn toward religion. 
Father H. Ah? — with mine! — 

I saw you at the church, the other day. 
Madam C. I heard the Father was to preach — 
Father H. And came? — 

Madam C. To be a worshipper. 
Father H. You think perhaps, 

That we make less of preaching than of praise. 
Madam C. Now, honestly, I do admire your 

form. 
Father H. I like to see you give it counte- 
nance. 
But, really, Madam Cecil, you are right. 
We must have form; — all eyes, ears, crave it so. 
The only question, as I say, is this — 

Which form is the 

Madam C. The form the most emphatic, 

One might call the form. 
Father H. Right, just right again ! — 
In schools, asylums, prisons, everywhere 
That faith should be impressed 



330 CECIL THE SEER. 

Madam C. There one should use 

The most impressive form. 
Father H. Why, why, how strange! 

Just what I told your husband ! 
Madam C. {laughing significantly). You have 
learned 
A woman's thoughts are echoes; and she echoes 
The thoughts that have been nearest his 

heart too 
To whom she stands the nearest. 
Father H. No — but I — 

How could I think my words had had such 
weight? 
Madam C. Words are a currency that owe their 
worth 
Less to their substance, often, than their 
source. 

[Father H. Your husband, then, you think 

Madam C. {with an implied suggestion) . 

A man that knows 

Enough to judge a beaker by its brand.] 

Father H. I did not think I had such influence. 

Madam C. Nor does the sun. It never thinks 

at all ; 

Yet keeps the whole world whirling — by its 

light?— 
No, no, — by its position. 
Enter — Right Rear — Freeman and Faith, pres- 
ently seating themselves in the alcove. 



CECIL THE SEER. 33I 

Father H. If the courts 

Had only sense to recognize the wrong 
Of taxing our schools to support a rule 
From which our own religion is ruled out — 
Madam C. And on your side are many sena- 
tors ? — 
And they confirm the judges? 
Father H. What of that? 

Madam C. Why, Father, sometimes I have 
played at whist; 
And when my partner holds the cards that 

win 

Father H. {to Madam C). 

What then? 
Madam C. Then I play low — play whist. 
Father H. Ha! ha! 

Enter — Left Front — Lowe carrying a map- 
like plan of streets, parks, etc. Other 
Gentlemen enter with him. All 
surround Madam C. 
Exit — Left — Father Hycher. 
[Freeman {to Faith). 

See Madam Cecil. How her ribboned form 
Bends o'er the black coats! — like a bow of 

promise 
Above thick cloud-banks. Each one thinks 

he sees 
Those of his own cloth fly at Cecil's bid- 
ding 



332 CECIL THE SEER. 

Like crows where grows but shall not grow a 

harvest. 
Oh, to be popular, just let one be 
Abulge with promise, pledging everything. 
Till time present him his protested bills, 
The world will fawn and paw him like a cur 
To do his bidding. Promise is a flea : 
It makes us itch ; but fools us, would we catch 

it.] 

Madam C. {looking over Lowe's plans). 

This line here is the river bank, — not so? 
Lowe. And here the railway; and the park is 
here. 

And here the church {pointing) . 
Madam C. The church ? 

Lowe. You know with me 

Religion is the chief consideration. 
Madam C. I know; but yet a Friend — ? 
Lowe. The company 

Are world's folk, — ^will not build a meeting. 
So 

We would not quarrel with them: we build 
this. 
Madam C. Yes. How considerate ! 
[Lowe. I wish to be so. 

Madam C. But no one lives here yet ? 
Lowe. In time some will. 

Madam C. And, for their future good, you 
build the church ? 



CECIL THE SEER. 333 

Lowe. Yet some do not approve.] 

Madam C. Is there much doubt 

Of your success? 
Lowe. Oh no — not if the courts 

Remove the injunction of the district's owners. 
Madam C. But that will follow. As my 
husband says, 
The corner stones of monumental deeds 
Must always crush some worms; and plans 

like these {laughing good-naturedly) 
Are monumental — even in their size ! 
We ought to find a table for them here. 
{gesturing toward the Left.) 
Exeunt — Left — Madam C, Lowe and 
other Gentlemen. 
Freeman {to Faith). 

This is a swindle shrewdest of them all, — 
A syndicate that steals the river-bank; 
Then taxes doubly those they steal it from 
[For what is left them. But the abuse is old. 
Where thrived ambition yet, but strove to build 
Itself a monument by heaping up 
That which, when lost, made hollow all about 

it! 
How many castles I have seen in Europe, 
Where every graceful touch in breadth and 

height 
That formed the great hall's pride, seemed 
underlined 



334 CECIL THE SEER. 

As if by shadowy finger-prints of force. 
That snatched all from the hamlet at its base !] 
But look you — there is Cecil, and with Celia. 

{pointing toward the Left Rear.) 
How indiscreet his kindness toward that ward 
Of Kraft ! — Kraft who could make him judge, 

and who 
Abhors her, treats her like a slave, they say. 
Faith. Why so? 
Freeman. He has his reasons. 
Faith {rising). Do you know them? 

(Freeman rising and shrugging his shoulders.) 
Some say that you admired her once. 
Freeman. I did. 

Before my eyes met you 

Faith. This never can be. 

My uncle's honor and mine own are pledged. 
Freeman. But honor helping none and harm- 
ing self. 
Need never serve the body of a vow 
From which the life to which it vowed has 

flown. 
Exeunt — Right Front — Faith and Freeman. 
Enter — Left Rear — Celia and Cecil. 
Cecil. Must leave off study, Celia? 
Celia. So it seems. 

Cecil. To be their brightest, minds need 
burnishing; 
And earth needs all the light that we can give it. 



CECIL THE SEER. 335 

Celia. I know — were I not so opposed — were 
I 
Not, say, a woman. What can woman do? 
Cecil. Do, Celia, do? 

Celia. Why, yes — what starts with her? 

Cecil. No matter what. Men sow the seed, 
you think. 
How could it grow, were it to find no soil? 
You know the crystal globes clairvoyants 

look in, 
And think they see as heaven sees then? — 

Some women 
Have crystal souls. One faces them to find 
His thoughts divine, himself akin to God. 

Celia. If that be woman's nature 

Cecil. It is not, 

Till polished in the friction of the schools. 
Which some think needless; but where wo- 
man's mind 
Has never been made bright, the thoughts of 

men 
Will never flash for it. 
[Celia. The sun may find 

Its image in the dullest pool. 
Cecil. To be 

Too modest, is to lag behind, and not 
Keep step with God's advancing lines. 
Celia. My trouble 

Is caused by lines prescribed by men. A soul 



336 CECIL THE SEER. 

That swerves from these in either thought 

or deed 
They treat as traitor both to them and God. 
Cecil. Of course! — If they can group them- 
selves with God 
They may appear more lordlike to the souls 
That they desire to lord it over. — But 
How is it you have come to learn of this ? — 
What lines of thought or deed have you been 
breaking? 
Celia. I may have been at fault — I had a 

dream — 
Cecil. And you were blamed for dreaming? 
Celia. No; I told it. 

Cecil. Another Joseph! — indiscreet, I see. 
You should have known we all at heart are 

Tartars ; 
And value most the beauty of the spirit, 
When, like the Tartar's daughter, it is veiled. — 
But now, this dream, — why not let me too 
judge it? 
Celia. My dream awoke a whim. I said I 
thought 
That, if a soul must live hereafter, why, 
It must have lived before. — You know the 

Christ 
Did not rebuke those who confessed they 

thought 
Elias had returned; but, in an age 



CECIL THE SEER. 337 

When all believed he might return, confirmed 

them. 
And then our creed — Where can it come to 

pass, — 
The body's resurrection? 
Cecil. Where? 

Celia. Where but 

In that new earth of Hebrew prophecies? — 
Which would have but misled, had those that 

heard 
Not had it in their power themselves to be 
Restored to life in that restored estate. 
Cecil. The state of Adam, do you mean, and 
Eve?— 
From which men fell away?] 
Celia. I sometimes think 

The sources of men's thoughts — and deeds, 

as well — 
Are far, far back of all they meet with now, — 
In previous lives from which the present 

grow; 
And men are born to what they bring them- 
selves. 
Cecil. You seem to make life hard to under- 
stand. 
Celia. No; I explain it; for, if I myself 

Had been an Eve, my suffering now were just. 
Cecil. Your suffering now? — so great? — What 
is it? — How? — 



338 CECIL THE SEER. 

Celia. I must find some one — let me tell it 
you: 
To him, whose wife, ere death, was more to me 
Than mother, I am naught. 
Cecil. But others prize you. 

Celia. The rarest jewel might be cheaply 
bartered 
By one who did not prize it. 

Cecil. Bartered? — You? 

Celia. Note my complexion — who think you 

my mother ? — 
Cecil. What, what ? — Kraft never claimed you 

as a slave? 
Celia. Nor will, perhaps ; but he has threatened 
it; 
And even the suggestion of this here — 
Cecil. But why suggest it? 
Celia. I alone have seen 

The writings that were left him by his wife, — 

Her wish to free her slaves 

Cecil. Oh, what a worm 

Is greed for gold! Did ever human fruitage 
Turn into rot but this greed gnawed the 

core ? — 
Was there a will? (Celia nods slightly.) 

You are in danger, yes. 
Celia. A wretch has come, as vile as he is ugly; 
And if I were the charmer of a snake, 
I could not shrink from touch more horrible. 



CECIL THE SEER. 339 

Cecil. And what of him? 

Celia. Why, I must go with him ; 

Indeed, have been forbidden to come here. 
Cecil. To-night? 
Celia. To-night. 

Cecil. Must marry him? 

Celia. Nay, worse. 

He needs, or says he needs, a housekeeper. 
Cecil. Why, Celia, this is monstrous! By 
what means 

Would Kraft enforce his will ? 
Celia. By force itself ; 

And what he deems my ignorance. 
Cecil. Tell me, child, 

Has Kraft good reasons? 
Celia. If he have? 

Cecil. Why, then 

[By your white soul, and by the work of Christ, 

Howe'er they storm, although with thunder- 
bolts 

As thick as bristling blades in bayonet charges] 

I stand between you and the coming danger. 
Celia. I thank you, friend; but no; your race 
is mine. 

But one needs time to prove it. 
Cecil. Who meanwhile 

Will guard you ? 
Celia . Yes — who will ? 

Cecil. That son of Kraft? 



340 CECIL THE SEER. 

Celia. He ? — Such a villain, that his daintiest act 
Of kindness is a counterfeited coin 
With which he chaffers and intends to cheat! 
If I were drowning, I would spurn to grasp 
His hand, if it would draw me near himself. 
Better to die at once, when washed and clean, 
Than catch contagion and live on defiled. 

Cecil. You must remain at my house. 
Enter — Left Rear — Kraft. 

Kraft. Celia here? 

Celia {noticing Kraft). 

I — I — have an engagement. I must go. 
Exit — Left Front — Celia. 

Kraft {to Cecil). 

I interrupt you. She was 

Cecil {to Kraft). Telling me 

That you desire to have her drop her studies. 

Kraft. Well, she must win her bread. 

Cecil. Quite true; but how? 

Kraft. Humph ! — my affair ! 

Cecil. Why, no; not wholly, — is it? 

Let me relieve you of the charge of her. 
And take it on myself. In two years' time, 
When once she gets to teaching, she can pay 
me. 

Kraft {sarcastically). Perhaps; but, by the 
way, now that you speak 
Of teaching, there is no one named, I think, 
For your professorship, in case you leave it. 



CECIL THE SEER. 34I 

Cecil. I have not left it yet. 

Kraft. You may do so. 

If not, too, there are more professorships; 

And I — I have a son. 
Cecil. I see. No doubt 

His claims would have fair hearing. 
Kraft. But if you 

Could recommend him 

Cecil. That would pass for little; 

I know so little of him. 

Kraft. But your word 

Cecil. Would, like a bank-note, quickly lose 
its worth 

Were nothing stored behind it, to make true 

The storage it bespeaks. 
[Kraft. Humph! I have found 

The men most praised for judgment are the 
men 

Most echoing others' judgments. Thus, for- 
sooth, 

They make their own appear approved by all. 
Cecil. Not so with me! Has he experience 

In teaching? 
Kraft. He has knowledge. 

Cecil. For a teacher, 

A knowledge of mere books does not suffice; 

He needs a knowledge too of human nature ; 

And sympathy, to make his teaching welcome: 

And fire, to make it felt; and tact and skill. 



342 CECIL THE SEER. 

To aim and temper it for others' needs; 
And modesty to keep his own acquirements 
In strict-held servitude to their demands, 
And dignity that comes from honoring truth, 
To crown its bondman as the student's 

master. 
What think you? Has he these? 
Kraft. Has had no chance 

To show 

Cecil. Then why not test him where a failure 
Would not be trumpeted? A man's best 

friend 
Will bid him wait for honor till he earn it. 
Amid earth's envious crush of frenzied greed, 
It is no kindness, pushing to the front 
One who is not a leader. Zealous forms 
That crowd him there, may tramp him under 
foot. 
Kraft. I will remember 

What you have said.] 
Enter — Left Front — a Gentleman beckoning 

to Kraft. 

Exeunt — Left Front — Gentleman and Kraft, 

after bowing to Cecil. 

Enter — Right Front — Freeman. 

Cecil {to Freeman). I hear Kraft has a son. 

Freeman. And I am more unfortunate — 

have met him. 
[Cecil. He wants to rise in life. 



CECIL THE SEER. 343 

Freeman. In politics, — 

What low souls like because enabling them 
To worm themselves to slimy eminence 
Without abandoning the dirt they gloat in.] 
Exeunt — Left Rear — Freeman and Cecil. 
Dance music. Enter at the different en- 
trances, dancers in couples or in sets. 
At last, those nearest the Left beckon 
to the others, and all, as if suddenly 
called away, exeunt at the Left En- 
trances. 
Enter — Right Rear — Jem, carrying a tray 
with plates and refreshments on it. 
He looks at the dancers, then meeting 
MiLLY, he places the tray on the table 
near the alcove. 
Enter — Right Front — Milly, carrying a 
tray with glasses containing iced tea. 
She too places her tray on the table. 
Jem looks at the departing dancers and at 

Milly). 
Milly. De white folks leave deir shadders. 
Jem {stretching his hand to take Milly's). 

Heah ! come heah ! 
Milly {drawing back her hand). 

No, no, yer don't. 
Jem {looking sharply at her hand, which she keeps 
clenched) . Now tell me what yer got 
In dat black hoUah dah. 



344 CECIL THE SEER. 

MiLLY {jerking her hand away). 

Jes' what yer hasn't. 
Jem. Come, come, now, Milly. Lawd ob all 
de stahs ! 
Dis heah's a patch ob his own pitchy sky. 
An' hoi's a stah in dah. Whose am it, hey? 
Milly. Whose? Mine. 

Jem. Yer'll catch it — libin' deed o' darkness! 
Milly {throwing breast-pin from one hand into 
the other) . 
Dey'll hab to catch dis fust. 
Jem. Come, yer knows, Milly, 

Dat I'll not gib yer way. Say, whar'd yer get 
it? 
Milly. Why, on de floah. 
Jem. Who drapt it off 'um den? 

Milly. De folks dat owes us twenty times as 
much 
As dat '11 fetch us. 

{shaking the breast-pin at Jem.) 
[Jem. Ah, dat's right. 

Milly {putting the breast-pin in her pocket). 

Yes, Laud! 
An' doin' right. 
Jem. All 'cep' dat yer aint dancin'. 

(Jem makes motions as if dancing.) 
Heah, now, heah an' heah! 
Milly. Now, Jem, yer wait. 

Jem. What fur? 



CECIL THE SEER. 345 

MiLLY. 'Case dey'll fine out. 

Jem. Ugh, dey can't see us. 

MiLLY. Ole missus 's allers houndin' roun*, yer 
knows, 
To fine de niggah.] 
{moving and gesturing toward the alcove.) 
Dah. Set down. 
(MiLLY sits in the alcove.) 
Jem {looking at the refreshments). An' take 
De crum dat's fallen fro' de rich man's table? — 
Dat'm scripter. (Jem sits.) 

Look heah, Milly. 
MiLLY. What's ter see? 

Jem. Dis dahky's lips would like anoder cake. 

{puckering lips, as if to kiss her.) 
Milly. Oh, yer go home. 

Jem. No; it am cold out dah. 

Milly. Den let it shake yer! yer got one wife 

now. 
Jem. Not one! De las' 'un, Dinah, 'm sold, yer 
know — 
Gone like de dark cloud when de night am 

come. 
I'll nebah see her moah. 
Milly. Jem, dat am sad. 

Jem. An' yer don't reckon dis Jem's meant ter 
be 
A gem widout a settin' ? 
Milly. Dah's de white folks. 



346 CECIL THE SEER. 

Enter — Left Rear — Blaver and Miss 
Primwood — MiLLY and Jem risey 
taking their trays. 
[Jem. Well, dey don't reckon so nuther. 
MiLLY. What dey reckons, 

Dey show by sellin' Dinah. 

Jem. What yer reckon 

MiLLY. Is all de number ob yer wives ! 

{bowing to Jem.) 
Jem. Yer can't.] 

Exeunt — Right Front — Milly and Jem hurriedly- 
Miss Primwood {catching a glimpse of them, and 
holding up her hands). 
None have religion, none — I tell you none. 
Men are not solemnized as once they were. 
Blaver. No, they are sodomized. You say 
you saw 
In Cecil's hand, a reddish-colored dram? 

Miss Primwood. It might have been 

Blaver. To those who saw it drunk 

It looked, at least, like liquor. He was not 
Avoiding the appearances of evil, 
[Is not the man I thought — no proper mate 

For Madam Cecil. She 

Miss Primwood. You think so, eh? — 

Men never will know women. This is 

hers — 
Her party — making those not thirsty drink, 
And eat, too, with no appetite, — and dance, 



CECIL THE SEER. 2>47 

When prudence knows, they ought to be in 
bed.] 

Enter — Right — Milly, carrying a tray 
containing a reddish-colored liquid in 
glasses. She stops before Blaver. 
Blaver {to Milly). 
Ah, — what is this? 
Milly. Iced tea. 

Blaver Why, that will be 

Refreshing, very ! — Here ! {pointing to the chairs 
near the table). Iced tea! 

{To Milly.) Yes, yes. 
(Blaver a7id Miss P. sit at the table. 
Milly places two glasses of the red- 
dish-colored liquid before them.) 
Blaver {continuing the interrupted conversation) . 
Where none wish levity, affairs like this 
Create it. I have known most sober men 
Grow indiscreet — {tasting the tea.) 

This is good, yes — and make 
All that they pray for seem ridiculous. 
Enter — Left and Right — couples walking together. 

Exit — Left — Milly. 
Enter — Right — Jem carrying a tray on which 

are plates containing refreshments to eat. 
Miss Primwood {looking in disapprobation at 
the couples) . 
And scenes like this, too, cater to flirtation — 
{looking at two elderly people together.) 



34^ CECIL THE SEER. 

In them so old, too, they should be above it. 
(Miss Primwood's spoon that she has been 
using, falls to the floor. — Blaver 
hands Miss P. his spoon that he has 
not used, at the same time picking up 
Miss P's. spoon and significantly plac- 
ing it in his own cup.) 
Blaver. Precisely! 

Miss P. Yes, at times, it makes me feel — 
Blaver {who evidently has lost the connection of 
thought) . 
Flirtation makes you feel? 
Miss P. {in evident disgust). Oh no; not that! 

(Jem stands before them with his tray.) 
Blaver {noticing Jem, and taking the plates from 
his tray for Miss P. and himself, as if 
thinking Miss P. referred to these). 
Oh yes, I see ! 
Miss P. {disliking his inference with reference to 
the meaning of her former words). 
No, no! 
Blaver {referring to the plates) . Not take them ? 
Miss P. These? 

Oh yes, I thank you. — You mistook my 

meaning. 
I sometimes think that none should feel at all. 

Exit — Right — Jem . 

Exeunt — Right and Left — the promenading 

Couples. 



CECIL THE SEER. 349 

Blaver. No, in flirtation none should feel at 
f all. 

Miss P. No, no, no ! not in that — in anything. 
If none would feel, none would have dis- 
content ; 
And that would cure all evils of the time. 
[Blaver. Yes, that is true. Why, even small 
boys now, 

Must have small beer 

Miss P. For that will pop, you know! 

Will make a noise ! explode monotony !] 
• Our slaves now even hint of earning wages; 
And girls, once clad in bonnets and in slippers, 
Now strut in hats and boots. 
Blaver. And where, strut where? 

Miss P. Well put, well put, my friend! They 
strut for schools 
In which they study, think and talk like boys. 
[Blaver. And times that do not like a cackling 
hen. 
And seek to fill their coops with fowl that crow, 
Will not get many eggs. 
Miss P. No, no ; will not ! — 

Think what a scandal, if our highest courts 

Blaver. Should not court women of the high- 
est kind. 
Miss P. Precisely; and o'errule th' iniquity 
That gives free entrance into men's resorts 
Of maids 



350 CECIL THE SEER. 

Blaver. That in your school are prized like 

jewels !] 
(Blaver and Miss P. continue their conversation 

aside.) 
Enter — Left Rear — Cecil and Father Hycher. 
Cecil. Yes, Father Hycher ; but you know our 
laws 
Have never recognized the churches thus. 
Father H. But we have rights — 
Cecil. To change the laws you have, 

But not to break them. 
Father H. Did one merely waive 

The letter of the law, what could be harmed? 
Enter — Left Rear — Freeman. 
Cecil. One's conscience, if he went against 
the law, — 
One's heed of right, — a fact, I take it. Father, 
You ought to see. 
Father H. I do not see it so; 

And if I did, above it I could see 
A higher law. 

Exit — Left Rear — Father H. 
[Cecil {to Freeman). 

Humph, humph! we live to learn. 
It seems that even formalists like him 
Can see some spirit through a form; but 

what ? — 
One time upon a mountain top, I saw 
My own shape magnified on clouds about me. 



CECIL THE SEER. 35 1 

How many men in earth's high places find, 
Looming on clouds of false regard about them, 
False forms of self, distorted in their size ! 
To waken such to their own true position. 
Thank heaven for precipices ! When they fall , 
Their views of God and self, turned upside 

down. 
May bring, at last, conversion.] 
(Cecil and Freeman move toward the right near 
where Blaver and Miss P. are sitting. 
Both rise.) 
Miss P. Oh, Professor, 

Professor Cecil, how your ears must burn! 
You know the rumors that are in the wind. 
Cecil {bowing and motioning them to be seated) . 
Trust not in words with wind alone to back 

them. 
Nothing is quite so empty as the sky 
Behind a blow, when once it has blown by. 
Miss P. That does for you to say; but you two 
friends, (bowing to Blaver.) 
Your judgment, (bowing to Cecil.) 

and your judgments, when they rule 
Our civil, social, educational ways, 
Will put a close to some things. 
Cecil. To their life? 

Miss P. How you enjoy a joke! — You read, 
not so? (gesturing toward Blaver.) 
The deacon's latest work? 



352 CECIL THE SEER. 

Cecil. To tell the truth, 

I have not yet 

Miss P. So little interest? — 

Cecil. Of course the question has two sides 

Blaver {aside to Freeman). Two sides? — 

It has but one. I see — he is not with us. 
Miss P. The great book of the age! 
Blaver {to Miss P). You flatter me. 

{to Cecil). 
[She likes my essay, since, on general grounds, 
As I detail the duties of the state, 
I argue prohibition by the whole 
Of all things detrimental to the part, 
Applying this, not only to the cause 
To which my life is pledged, but with this, too, 
To questions like the giving of instruction 
To slaves, and free tuition to poor whites, 
And throwing open to our girls and women 
The State schools, not the ones to train their 

sex. 
It is my proving of this latter point 
Enlists her praise, whose long — 
, (Miss P. straightens up and draws hack.) 

no, I mean wide — 
Whose wide experience, as the principal 
Of our first female college, seals her right 
To criticise all efforts of the State 
To train our girls in different schools from 
hers. 



CECIL THE SEER. 353 

Cecil {in good-natured banter). 

Ah, yes, I see. The same boat floats you both. 
You pull together. Friends are worth the 

having 
Who best can serve themselves when serving 
us.] 
Miss P. Oh, you must read his book! — will 
like it too; 
If but for what it says of slaves and women. 
Cecil. You class the two together? I should 

not. 
Freeman, (aside to Cecil). How women love 
their fetters! — Best, perhaps! 
They make sweet slaves, but very bitter 
masters. 

Exit — Right — Freeman. 
Miss P. You would not open then our college 
doors 
To women ? 
Cecil. Why not? 

Miss P. Why, our boys and girls 

Might think of love ! 
Cecil. That would be no new thing; 

And, being wont to walk in love, when young. 
They might be much less prone to fall in love, 
In ways not wise, when older. 
Miss P. But their minds 

Are so unlike! — 
Cecil. And never can be matched 

23 



354 CECIL THE SEER. 

Until they learn to share each other's aims. 
Souls are not mated when two forms of 

flesh 
Join hands, or merely share each other's 
arms. 
Miss P. And you would have them like each 

other? 
Cecil. Yes. 

It seems important if they are to marry. 
Like ought to go with like. And paths that 

push 
Young men and maids together, whet their 

wits 
And make their weddings wise ones. 
[Miss P. Always? 

Cecil. No; 

But oftener, yes much oftener so, than else- 
wise. 
Where true love is the treasure to be sought, 
One glimpse of nature is a better guide 
Than all the forms of calculating art 
That ever powdered an instinctive flush, 
Or rouged pale hate, in any masquerade 
That men call good society.] 
Miss P. But few 

Would think you had so much romance in 
you. 
[Cecil. All have romance, if only they have 
soul. 



CECIL THE SEER. 355 

They differ but in their expressions of it. 
Enter — Right Rear — Jem with a tray holding 
refreshments. 
Miss P. And most of them believe, with Deacon 
Blaver, 
It should not be expressed in school. 
Cecil. Why not? 

Romance is but the day-time of the soul 
Well sunned by love, beneath which, when we 

dwell, 
Each act of duty and each thought of truth 
Is haloed with a light that seems like heaven's. 
To spirits rightly moved, the whole of life, — 
Home, school, religion — all lead through ro- 
mance. 

(Jem speaks aside to Cecil.) 
(Blaver and Miss P. rise while Cecil gestures to- 
ward the chairs, Jem and the refreshments.) 
Cecil. Oh, pray be seated, and take more. 
Miss P. Thanks. 

Blaver. Thanks. 

(Jem removes from the table the empty glasses and 

plates, and substitutes full ones.) 
Miss P. And do you then approve, do you 
admire 
Lean, short-haired women, and lank, long- 
haired men, 
Exchanging shawls and coats, and stripping 
life 



356 CECIL THE SEER. 

Of character, to make it caricature? 
Exit — Right Rear — Jem. 
Cecil. I do not much admire the straw in 
spring 
That forms the spread of flower-beds; but 

beneath 
Sleep summer's fairest offspring. What you 

moot 
May show two sides. A man may be run down 
Amid the clash and clangor of a street, 
Because one ear is deaf. In any path, 
The rush of life may run down all who hear 
But on one side.] 

Enter — Right — Freeman. 
[Miss P. But when one side is right. 

Cecil. The right is that to which the world 
moves on. 
You cross its track to stop it; it moves on, 
You fall.] 
(Cecil hows aiid turns toward Freeman. Blaver 

and Miss P. how, then continue conversing.) 
[Miss P. And this he does not mean to do 
For my cause or for yours. Trust me for 
that. 
Blaver. His friends must see he does not get 
so high 
That falling far will hurt him.] 

(Blaver and Miss P. sit down; and talk 
aside, till, after a little, Blaver points 



CECIL THE SEER. 357 

vigorously toward the Right Front. 
Then both rise, taking plates and 
glasses with them, and exeunt at the 
Right Front.) 
Enter — Left Rear — Madam Cecil, Ma- 
dam Lowe and Lowe, carrying his 
plans. 
Madam Cecil. We shall find him. 
{to Cecil.) 
Oh, here you are ' Come look at these — 

{pointing to Lowe's plans.) these plans. 
Are just the thing the city needs. We two 
Were searching all the house for you. 
(Madam Cecil and Madam Lowe remain near 
the Left Rear.) 
Cecil motions to Freeman indicating 
that he look at the plans with him^ 
which Freeman does. 
Cecil {replying partly to Madam C. and partly 

speaking to Lowe). I see. 

Lowe {pointing to a part of the plan). And see 

the church here? 
Cecil. Oh! is that the church? 

But I thought you a Friend? 
Lowe. The company 

Are world's folk — will not build a meeting. 

So 
We would not quarrel with them. We build 
this. 



358 CECIL THE SEER. 

Freeman {laughing good-naturedly). 

You beat the Masonic order. They but make 

A show of their religion when they lay 

A corner-stone. You lay out for it now. 
Lowe. Ah yes! With me religion is the chief 

Consideration. Think how poor our life 

Would be without religion. 
Freeman. Be less rich, 

You think. 
Lowe. Just so; for there is nothing like 

A church to elevate the character 

Freeman. Of real estate, I see — 
Lowe {half realizing that he is being made a butt.) 

And people too. 
[Freeman. No people live here yet? 

Lowe. Ah, but they will 

Freeman. If you do what is right to draw them 
here. 

To build a church is right — not so? — and 
right 

Is your religion. 
Lowe. Yes; but one might think 

His motives were not rightly understood. 
Freeman {glancing toward Cecil significantly). 

I think we understand them perfectly. 
Lowe {looking particularly toward Cecil). 

And like the plans then ? 
Freeman. Oh, he must — as plans. 

They plan so far ahead. 



CECIL THE SEER. 359 

Lowe. A man who sees 

A mountain in his path that must be climbed, 
Will make more effort. Effort is our need. 
With such a plan as this, our friends will know 
We need more money, and will find us more.] 
Cecil. Quite true. 
(Madam Cecil comes to them. Freeman turns 

. to speak to Madam Lowe.) 
Lowe {to Cecil). 

Am glad to meet your approbation. 
Cecil. Not that, quite that! Men take too 
many chances 
In drawing facts from fancies. I shall need 

To weigh 

Exeunt — Right Rear — Freeman and Madam 

Lowe. 
Lowe {half in earnest turning to Madam Cecil) . 
If friends thus judge us as our foes do, 
What good then does it do to have a friend ? 
Cecil {earnestly and good-naturedly) . 
To prove to all the justice of our souls 
That wish for friends both generous and 
just. — 

{taking the plans in his hands.) 
One cannot fully take these in, at first. 
Enter — Right Rear — ^Jem. 
Madam C. {to Lowe, as if with a covert meaning). 
You leave them here. We must look over 
them. 



360 CECIL THE SEER. 

(She motions toward Jem, to whom Cecil 
hands the plans, at the same time 
motioning to him to take them to the 
Left. Jem turns, and presently,) 
Exit — Left Rear — Jem. 
(When Cecil and Madam C. turn toward Jem, 
Lowe turns toward the Right, evidently dis- 
satisfied.) 
Exit — Right Rear — Lowe. 
Madam C. (to Cecil, and evidently annoyed to see 
Lowe leaving them) . 
Kraft, Hycher, Lowe and Blaver, — all, to- 
night. 
All frown at things that you have said to them. 
Why will you always give these men offense? 
Cecil. Because I give them truth. 
Madam C. Truth is for fools. 

Cecil. I give it to them. 

Madam C. Humph ! It comes from fools. 

Cecil. Yes, if they think men want it I do not. 

They merely need it. 
Madam C. Need? What for? 

Cecil. Their good — 

Their own, and — say — humanity's. 
Madam C. The good 

All seek from men like you, is leadership. 
But he who leads men up, himself must 

mount 
Where he appears above them. 



CECIL THE SEER. 3^1 

Cecil. How and where 

He mounts, depends on that in which he leads. 
A leader in the truth would better kneel 
Upon the footstool of a throne, than sit 
Upon it, crowned by falsehood. 

Madam C. Would you were, 

But what I thought you were when we were 
wed! 

[Cecil {kindly). 

Come, come, your wishes, like wild steeds, 

escape 
The reining of your reason, and may wreck it. 
Why wish a station higher than we have? 

Madam C. For you — your influence. 

Cecil. Nay, in that you err. 

True words alone are weapons of true thought. 
If I be free to use these, I am free 
To be truth's champion. If, to gain the place 
You wish me, or to hold it, being gained, 
I let my tongue be tied, I live a slave.] 

Madam C. 

A woman wrecked at sea, would better lash 
The anchor to her throat, than try to breast 
The waves of life in such a world as this, 
Wed to a man without ambition. She 
Could not sink sooner. 

Cecil {gazing and gesturing at their surroundings) . 

Do you sink, my wife, 
With such surroundings? 



362 CECIL THE SEER. 

Madam C. Yes, for power and wealth 

Both loom before you. When I tell it you, 
And strive to urge you toward them, you, 

blind loot, 
vSquat, blinking like an owl; or, if you stir, 
But flutter, blunder, miss your aim, and fall 
From off the ver}^ branch, the topmost branch. 
You ought to perch upon. 
Cecil. Alas, my wife, 

I thought you loved me for the man I was. 
I never wrought or wished for wealth. 
Madam C. Oh, drone, 

That I could sting you, as do bees their 

drones 
That make no honey ! 
Cecil. You do sting at times. 

That pleases you? — But you have better 

moods. 
I never could have thought I loved you else. 
Why blame my soul, because it must be true 
To higher aims and higher influence? 
If, seeking these, this world's promotion come, 
Let come! I take it then by right divine. 
Madam C. Fanatic! Do you think in men's 
mad rush. 
Each toward his own life's goal, they wrest 

the power 
That makes another serve them, without 
work ? — 



CECIL THE SEER. 363 

Skill? shrewdness? tact? and forcing to the 

wall, 
Or down the precipice, each weaker rival? 
Cecil. I do, if power that crowns them come 

from God. 
Madam C. The power that crowns one with 
success on earth 
Is earthly. Keen men know this. Not, not 

God: 
The devil rules the world. 
Cecil. God overrules it. 

Madam C. In far results, but in the near ones 

never ! 
Cecil. Then look to far results. Transferring 
there 
These transient whims, — ah you will find them 

melt, 
Like summer mist, while, rock-bound under 

them. 
Each goal remains that your true nature 

craves. 
Why seek for riches, when we have enough? 
Madam C. Enough! Oh, sluggard! Have we 

that? 
Cecil. We have — 

Enough for comfort, not enough for care; 
Enough to make us grateful for the wage 
Rewarding earnest work; but not enough 
To bind long habit to their fate whose course 



364 CECIL THE SEER. 

While serving earth has made them slaves to 

it. 
The peace of life crowns competence, not 

wealth. 
The wise man wants no more. 
Madam C. But woman does. 

Exit — Right Rear — Madam Cecil. 
Cecil. Then let no wise man marry. Cursed 

fate!— 
[This trudging on and on in paths of right, 
And knowing every pace takes one more 

stride 
Away from all one loves! — From all one 

loves ? — 
No, no; — from all that, once, one thought he 

loved. 
Oh, cruel customs of a cruel world. 
Which damn us for those dreams that seem to 

be 
Our holiest inspirations! Cruel dreams, 
That never prove delusions, till the world 
Welds bonds for us that death alone can 

break ! 
And cruel bonds that make all happiness, 
In one so bound, impossibility. 
Unless he live a sneak's life — who is this?] 

Enter — Left Rear — Celia. 
WhyCelia! 
Celia. I have come to tell you, friend, 



CECIL THE SEER. 365 

The man I fear is here. I saw his face, 

And like a thunder-cloud foretelling storm 

Cecil. Come first where we shall not be over- 
heard. 
Exeunt — Right Front — Cecil and Celia. 
Enter — Right Rear — Freeman and Faith. 
Freeman. You love me, Faith. Your manner 

tells me so. 
Faith. Your rival. Freeman, is no man, mere 

man. 
Freeman. You are deceived. You vow through 
— to — a man. 
And he will treat you — how? — His door is 

locked: 
He holds the key. Your uncle, though a 

priest. 
Has eyes upon your wealth. The thing is 

proved. 
Your dying father feared this. Faith, I knew 
His wish for you. Trust him, trust me, your 

friend, 
Disrobed of mystery, save th' eternal one 
Which thrills us now, whom heaven has made 
formates. 
[Faith. I would not give you up so, save to wed 

A holier spouse. 
Freeman. Yet one that is, at times, 

A Moloch, clasping in his arms of fire 
Desires he kindles, but can never quench. 



366 CECIL THE SEER. 

Faith. Oh, Freeman, when you speak, I 
tremble so ! 
You fill my soul with fears for you; but, ah, 
With fears that are so sweet, again I fear 
That my own soul is what I most should 
fear. 
Freeman. The wise fright off their fears by 
facing them. 
Will you not be my bride? Be this and use 
Your freedom as your father would have 
wished.] 
Enter — Left Rear — Father Hycher. 
Father H. {to Faith). 

What? — Have I warned you, Faith, so many 

times ? 
And you still parley with this infidel? — 
Obey me now! — Away! No more of this! 
{Faith moves toward the Left Front — 
Freeman starts to follow her. Father 
Hycher calls to him.) 
You will not follow her? — 

Exit — Left Front — Faith. 
Freeman. No? — wherefore not? 

Father H. I am her uncle. 
Freeman. Not her father, though ! 

Father H. Her spirit's — I direct her steps. 
Freeman. Step-father? — 

In that role men like you are just ideal ! 
But I am, that which you are not — her friend. 



CECIL THE SEER. 367 

Father H. You are a young man with a young 

man's dreams. 
Freeman. You are an old man; and an old 
man schemes. 
And she has wealth, and you have use for it. 
[Father H. And you think you have none! 
Oho, young man, 
When 3^ou have read yourself, 3^ou may be 

heard 
When trying to read others. But we waste 
Our time. I am her guardian; and you 
Should act the gentleman. 
Freeman. Which when I act, 

I shall not take my lessons all from you. 
Father H. Take this at least. — A gentleman 
is one 
Who never does the unexpected. 
Freeman. Well, 

By that test you can pass. I grant it you. 
All you have done has been in character. 
You call me infidel; but, Father Hycher, 
The infidel is one who does not trust 
The God that made and moves the soul 

within. 
If Faith did not desire another life 
Than you have planned, you might be wise 
and kind. 
Father H. Poor youth, when you know more 
about the world 



368 CECIL THE SEER. 

Freeman. I shall know more about such men 
as you ; 
Know how the dust of earth can make one 

blind, 
And din can make one deaf, till skies can 

blaze 
And heaven's voice thunder, yet no sight nor 
sound 

Reach 

Father H. {sarcastically). What? — 

Freeman. What was a soul! But there are 

souls 

Are stolen too when stoled. The devil's hand 

Out-does the deacon's. There is nothing left 

But vestment. All the barterer's priceless 

birthright 
Goes for the mess of pottage that he feeds on. 
Not strange such Hke to limit others' joys, 
Turn nature inside out and upside down. 
Claim spirit rules where all are slaves of sense, 
And heaven their realm, though all is rimmed 
by hell.] 
Father H. Humph, humph, my friend, you yet 
shall writhe for this. 
Exit — Left Front — Father Hycher. 
Enter — Right Front — Cecil and Celia. 
Cecil {to Freeman.) 

Why, friend, you seem excited. What has 
roiled you ? 



CECIL THE SEER. 369 

Freeman. Oh nothing, nothing, nothing but 

a toad 

That squat upon a flower here in your garden! 

Cecil. Here is another flower may take its 

place. 

I must attend the guests, and this, our 

friend. 
Needs your protection. She will tell you why. 
I leave her with you. 

Enter — Right Rear — Madam Cecil. 
(Cecil continues to Celia, taking her hand.) 
And remember, Celia, 
You must not fail to stay with us to-night. 
(Freeman and Celia move toward the alcove at 

the Right.) 
Madam Cecil {to Cecil). 

I thought so! I have spied this play before. 
Men seldom waive the wishes of their wives 
Except to welcome other women's wishes. — 
You have forgotten you have other guests. 
A storm is coming on. They wish to leave; 
And we should speed their parting. Shall we 
go? 
Freeman {to Celia, motioning toward the alcove). 
By staying here, we may keep out the way. 
Exeunt — Left Rear — Cecil and Madam 
C. Freeman and Celia seat them- 
selves in the alcove. 
Enter — Left Rear — Father and Widow Hycher. 
24 



370 CECIL THE SEER. 

Father H. {to Widow H). 

Let him have all her money that you live on ? — 

Not I! 
Widow H. {to Father H.). He shall not call on 

Faith again. 
Father H. She may be out? 
Widow H. She may. — And you, you liked 

The altar cloth? 
Father H. Embroidered wonderously ! 

Your candlesticks too go so well now with 

Freeman {to Celia). 

Ideals from dark ages? 
Widow H. {to Father H.). When you pray — 
Father H. {to Widow H.). 

Their lights appear like starlight sprinkling me 

With spray-drops of the heaven-light whence 
it came — 

I think of you. 
Widow H. {to Father H.). 

Of me, and not of God? 
Father H. {to Widow H.). 

Of you because of God. — Who could forget 

Your share in rendering His house attractive ? 
Freeman {to Celia). 

Especially in the front pew with her bonnet, — 

Heaved at him like some second flower- 
crowned censer. 
Father H. {to Widow H). 

I think that all men must have noticed this. 



CECIL THE SEER. 37I 

Freeman {to Celia). 

The usual result: — heads crown'd with flowers 
Nod most for bees that buzz and sting about 
them. 
Widow H. {to Father H.] 

And Cecil — will you aid him? 
Father H. {to Widow H.). Humph! a cause 

Once lost is not the one I follow. 
Exeunt — Left — Father Hycher and Widow 

Hycher. 
Celia {to Freeman). Cause? — 

Does he mean Cecil's? 
Freeman. Hope so ! Happy Cecil ! — 

High noon will come for him when he can 

see 
A form like that one shadowing him no more. 
Celia. I think it always may seem noon to 
those 
Who trample all their shadows underfoot 
As he does. 
Enter — Right Rear — Lowe and Madam Lowe. 

{The air becomes gradually darker.) 

Freeman {pointing toward the Right Rear). 

Very true ! But what of those 

Who deem it wise to keep themselves in shade, 

Held as a shield to ward away the light 

With every ray of color that might reach 

them, 
As if they thought it their worst enemy? 



372 CECIL THE SEER. 

Lowe {to Madam Lowe). 

The air seems weighted with a coming storm. 
Freeman {to Celia). 

Their airs appear so. Yes. 
Madam L. {to Lowe). Must hurry home. 
{Thunder in the distance.) 
How near i We should have been at meeting ! 
Lowe {to Madam L.) Yes, 

But if we had been there, how could one then 
Have shown those plans? 
Madam L. {to Lowe). Of course, we had to 
come, 
But this man Cecil seems not pious. 
Lowe {to Madam L.). No; 

You heard how they made light of that new 

building, — 
One, too, for their own sect! 
Madam L. {to Lowe). 

Yes, I have heard 
Enough for once. That irreligious music! 
Lowe {to Madam L.). 

And noise and dancing! It was fortunate 
The supper-room was opened early. 
Madam L. {to Lowe). Yes. 

{Distant thunder.) 
Lowe {to Madam L.). 

And one good thing ! — this thunder storm will 
end it. 
Exeunt — Left Rear — Lowe and Madam Lowe. 



CECIL THE SEER. 373 

Freeman {to Celia). 

I wonder if they really grudge each draft 
Of those enjoying what is past their taste? 
I hate to think it, yet at times, one must, 
That some men deem mere conscious envy 

conscience ; 
And seem most zealous when they are but 
jealous. 
(Thunder louder than before. Celia and Free- 
man both rise.) 
But hear the storm. I think it best you stay 
Inside the study. 

(Freeman points toward the Left Rear.) 
Celia {pointing toward the Left Front) . 

We can pass through here. 
Freeman. And I must go, and call these men 
I know. 
Detectives — good ones — they will shadow him. 
Exeunt — Left Front — Freeman and Celia. 
Enter — Left Rear — Blaver, Lowe, Miss 
Primwood and Madam Lowe, and 
others, all with hats and cloaks, evi- 
dently prepared to leave the house. 
Blaver {to Lowe). 

I used to have some confidence in Cecil. 
Lowe {to Blaver). 

But now he shows this lack of enterprise! 
Blaver. A man like him will never aid my plans, 
Nor yours. 



374 CECIL THE SEER. 

Enter — Left Rear; and Exeunt Right Rear 

— Father Hycher, Widow Hycher 

and Faith, prepared to leave the house; 

also Freeman. 

Enter — Left Rear — Madam Cecil, followed by 

Jem. 
Lowe. And wise men, when they fear a fight, 

Will never lend one weapon to a foe. 
Madam C. {to Miss Primwood). 

You leave us in a storm. 
Blaver {to Madam Cecil). No storm as yet. 
I thank you for a very pleasant evening 
{shaking hands with Madam C). 
Madam C. {shaking hands with Blaver). 
Good evening, {to Jem.) 

Here, Jem, show them to the gate. 
Madam C. motions to Jem who Exits at 
the Right Rear — Miss Primwood, 
then Lowe, then Madam Lowe, also 
others, shake hands with Madam C. 
Miss P. Good-night. 
Madam C. Good-night. 

Lowe. Good-night. 

Madam L. Good-night. 

Madam C. Good-night. 

Exeunt — Right Rear — Blaver with Miss 
Primwood, Lowe with Madam 
Lowe and others. 
Enter — Right Front — Kraft. 



CECIL THE SEER. 375 

Kraft. Where went your husband? 
Madam C. He? — With guests, perhaps. 
Kraft. Or, say, with CeUa. 
Madam C. What? — Your scheme 

has failed? 
Kraft. Not yet ; my men are here. 
Enter — Right Rear — Jem. 
(Thunder a^id lightning — Kraft points toward 
Jem.) You send for him. 
And I will send for her. 
Madam C. (/o Jem). Jem, find your master. 
I wish to see him. Say it is important. 
Exit — Left Rear — Jem. 
{to Kraft.) 
[Now let him leave her but one little mo- 
ment, 
As leave he must, and we shall have her 

seized. 
And may a pall, as black as tops this night, 

{Thunder and lightning.) 
Come down, and hide her face from us for- 
ever.] 
Kraft beckons toward the Right Front, 
Enter — Right Front — Two Men. 
Exeunt — Left Front — Kraft and the Two Men. 
Enter — Left Rear — Cecil. 
{Thunder and lightning.) 
Cecil {to Madam Cecil). What is your 
wish? 



376 CECIL THE SEER. 

Madam C. What care you, for my wish? 
Oh, I was but a fool, to wed a fool! 
Like goes with like. I now acknowledge it. 

{Thunder and lightning.) 
You might have been — ah me! — what might 

you not? 
Position, wealth, — all waited on your nod. 
You have dismissed them by your course 

to-night ; 
But one hope now remains, and that through 
Kraft. 
Enter — Left Rear — in trepidation, Celia. 
{Thunder and lightning.) 
Celia. Help ! help 1 
Cecil {to Celia). 

Come here. What is it? 
Celia. He — with men! 

They come to take me. 
Cecil. That they shall not do. 

Madam C. Wait, wait! Her guardian claims 

her. Who are you? 
Cecil. A man who shields a woman. 
Madam C. If she lie? — 

Cecil. Then he can prove it. 
Madam C. Dare you tell him that ? — 

Him, Kraft, — the man on whom alone de- 
pends 
Your chance now for promotion? 
{Thunder and lightning.) 



CECIL THE SEER. 377 

Celia {to Cecil). Do not harm 

Yourself. 
Cecil {to Celia). One harms himself the most 
when letting 
One weaker than himself be harmed. — Hide 
here! 
{He points toward a window curtain at the 
Rear.) 
Exit — behind the curtain — Celia. 
Madam C. {to Cecil). 

You do not know. — They claim her as a slave. 
Cecil {to Madam C). I save her as a woman. 
IMadam C. But the law — 

The sentiment — the spirit of the State. — 
You dare not shield her. 

{Thunder and lightning.) 
Cecil. Wherefore dare I not? 

Madam C. No man has ever yet with us been 
left 
Not ruined — left alive — who ventured this. 
Your influence, your position, property, 
Your life, my home, my hope for you, — all, all, 
Would all be forfeited. 

{Thunder and lightning.) 
Cecil. Well, let them go. 

When they have stripped me of all things 

besides, 
I shall have left a clean, clear conscience, death 
And heaven. 



378 CECIL THE SEER, 

Madam C. You madman ! 

Cecil. Not as mad as you : 

I wait for proof. 
Madam C. And if they prove their case ? — 

Cecil. I wait then till they take her. But 
they come. 

{Thunder and lightning.) 
Enter — Left Front — Kraft with two men. 
Kraft {to Cecil). 
Is Celia here? 

{advancing toward the Left Rear Entrance.) 
I say, is Celia here? 
Cecil {standing in front of the Left Rear En- 
trance — and looking around). 
I do not see her here. 
Kraft. I too have eyes. 

I did not ask that. She was in this house. 
Cecil. She was my guest; if she be still within 

She still then is my guest. 
Kraft. I am her guardian. 

Cecil. And so am I, while I remain her host. 
{Thunder and lightning.) 
(Cecil looks at the men behind Kraft.) 
You seem to wish to guard her well, — too 
well. 
Kraft. I do and shall — for she belongs to me. 
Cecil. Well, prove your case. 
Kraft. You ask for proof from me, — 

A gentleman ? — 



CECIL THE SEER. 379 

Cecil. I ask for proof from you. 

Kraft. You hint I am no gentleman? 
Cecil. I say 

You are not gentle in your present mood; 
And that child is — too gentle far for you. 
Kraft. What? — You defy me? — I shall search 
for her. 

{Thunder and lightnifig). 

Cecil. Not till you get by me ! 

(Cecil pulls out a pistol. Madam C. seizes it.) 

Kraft. And that we shall! 

(Kraft dashes at Cecil, followed by his 

men. A pistol-shot is heard. Cecil 

falls. Violent thunder and lightning.) 

Enter — Right Rear — Freeman with two detectives. 

Freeman. Here ! seize them ! Stop the villains, 

every one ! 
Exeunt — Left Front — Kraft and men, folloived 
by detectives. 
Enter — from behind the curtain — Celia, 
and bends over Cecil, excitedly ex- 
amining into his condition. 
Freeman {snatching the pistol from Madam C). 
Aha, you are the murderer? you? eh? — 
you? 
Madam C. I did not fire it. 
Freeman {examining the pistol) . 

One ball gone! Who did? — 
Confess it, or convict your lover, Kraft. 



38o CECIL THE SEER. 

Celia {wringing her hands over Cecil's prostrate 
body) . 
Oh, he is dead for me! — The only man 
I ever loved is dead for me, for me! 
{Thunder and lightning.) 

Curtain. 



ACT SECOND. 

Scene First: — A sick chamber. At the Leftt 
just behind the Front Entrance, is an alcove. 
In this, visible to the audience, is a bed. In front 
of the bed is a chair and a small table, and on the 
latter are bottles and glasses. On the bed is an 
effigy of Cecil who is apparently lying there in- 
sensible. Forming the back curtain of the stage is 
a representation of the wall of an ordinary 
bedroom. 

Entrances: by doors at the Right and 
Left; also, farther back at the Left, 
connecting with the space behind the 
bed in the alcove. 
The rising curtain reveals a Physician 
sitting in the chair beside the bed, and 
Celia just entering the room, or 
standing near him. 
Celia {to Physician). 

How fortunate for Freeman and myself 
That Kraft and Madam Cecil should have fled 
And left with us the man they thought was 

murdered ! 
Now we can nurse him, as he should be 

nursed. — 

381 



382 CECIL THE SEER. 

How does he seem this morning? 
Physician. Very low. 

Celia. Too low, you think, to rally and recover ? 
Physician {rising from the chair and offering it to 
Celia) . 
No man could tell — no other case just like it. 
One would not think a bullet lodged as this 

one 
Enough to insulate the brain entirely, 
Yet not a nerve will act. He scarcely seems 
To see, or hear, or even feel one touch him. 
Celia {looking at Cecil) . 

It seems like death. 
Physician. Yes, very much like death. 

Celia. He seems to think, though. 
Physician. Yes; for he is living. 

Celia. In states like this, what can a person 

think of? 

Physician. Why, he may dream of what he 

did, and was, 

And wished he was, before he reached them. 

Celia. So ? 

Physician. There could be nothing else for 

him to think of. 
Celia. I sometimes hope he knows that I am by. 
Physician {rising and preparing to leave). 
Perhaps he does. At any sign of it, 
A word might make him conscious of your 
presence, 



CECIL THE SEER. 3^3 

And keep him so. They say that things more 

sHght 
Than flickering flames, attracting conscious- 
ness 
At times, if they but set the nerves to thrilling, 
Wake slumbering senses into life again. 
Celia. Why, that would be like calling back 
to earth 
A spirit after it had flown. 
Physician. It would. 

Celia. You think it could be done?— that 
human tones, 
Though he might not conceive what thought 

was uttered ; 
That human touches, though he might not 

know 
Just who it was that held him, hand in 

hand, — 
That these might find him where the spirit 

dreams. 
And comfort him, and draw him here once 



more 



Physician. Who knows? — Why not? 

Celia. I thank you for the thought. 

You come to-morrow ? 
Physician. Yes, good day. 

Celia. Good day. 

Exit— Right — Physician. Celia moves 
toward the door with the Physician. 



384 CECIL THE SEER. 

Then she returns to the bed, sits in the 
chair beside it, and apparently takes 
Cecil's hand in her own. 

Scene Second: — The stage is darkened, and the 
curtain forming the back of the room in Scene 
First rises, leaving everything on the stage in 
front of this curtain the same as in Scene First. 
Celia, however, no longer sits by the bed in the 
alcove. At the rear of the stage, is an extensive 
sylvan landscape, trees, rocks, mosses, etc., 
hacked by higher rocks and distant mountain 
scenery. The leaves are colored as in autumn^ 
and the sky as at sunrise. Backing, near the 
center of the stage, slightly elevated and con- 
taining seats overlooking the stage, is an arbor. 
Some of the stone or moss-covered steps leading 
up to this ca7i be used as seats. Around and 
behind the arbor are other steps leading upward. 
Entrances, used in this scene: Right and Left 
Rear; and at the Back, behind the arbor, and 
reached by passing upward either through it or 
around it. 

From the moment that the stage is dark- 
ened, and while it is gradually being 
illumined again, part of the following 
is chanted by a choir, either invisible 
to the audience, or, clothed in white, 
and half seen at the rear of the stage: 



CECIL THE SEER. 385 

Oh, who has known the whole of Hght, 

That knows it day by day, 
Where suns that make the morning bright, 

At evening, pass away? 
Before the day, beyond the day, 

Above the suns that roll, 
There was a Hght, there waits a light 

That never leaves the soul. 

Oh, who has weighed the worth of light, 

That gauged it by the gleam 
That came within the range of sight 

And thought the rest a dream? 
Before that sight, beyond that sight 

Unending and supreme 
There was a light, there waits a light, 

Where things are all they seem. 



Once or twice toward the close of the sing- 
ing, Cecil who is now in the bed sits 
up, in a bewildered way, passing his 
hand over his forehead. A s the singing 
ceases, he stands on the floor, leaving 
the effigy of himself lying on the bed 
behind him. He now appears clothed 
in white. As he begins to gaze wonder- 
ingly about him, 

Enter — Left — an idealized form of Celia, 
clothed also in white. Cecil does 
not see her till after she has spoken. 
Cecil. Ah, where am I? 

25 



386 CECIL THE SEER. 

Celia. With me. 

Cecil {looking at her in astonishment, yet shrink- 
ing from her as if in awe) . 

And who are you? 
Celia. Your friend. 
Cecil {drawing nearer her). 

My friend? 
Celia. Do I seem else? 

Cecil {with pleased bewilderment). Nay, nay, 

You seem it all: you seem far more than 

this; 
Yet where — when — was it, that I knew you 



so 



Celia. You knew me so ? — You think you knew 

me, then? 
Cecil. Yes, knew you; and I know you; yet 
seem not 
To know where, when or how I learned of you. 
(Cecil gazes around, then, looking back 
at the bed that he has left, he suddenly 
starts upon seeing there the effigy of 
himself.) 
What? what? — Is that my body? — Am I dead? 
Celia. You seem to be alive. 
Cecil. If feeling be 

The test of life, I do live.— And yet that— 
{returning toward the bed and looking at the 

effigy-) 
That is my body. 



CECIL THE SEER. 3^7 

Celia {meeting him as he turns about, and point- 
ing to his own form) . 

Nay, but look you here. — 
What then is this? 
Cecil {placing his hand on his chest). 

This? — Oh, so light, so free, 
It seems an essence framed of flutterings, 
Ethereal as the trillings that a lark 
Leaves up in heaven when it has left for 

earth. — 
And you call this a body? 
Celia. That one there, 

{pointing toward the bed.) 
Holds not your thought? 
Cecil. Nay, it has flown to you. 

Celia. And wherefore, think you, has it flown 

to me? 
Cecil. I do not know. I half believe my soul 
Has all my life been flying thus to you. 
[Why, when you speak, your voice the echo 

seems 
Of some familiar strain, with which all sounds 
That ever I thought sweet were in accord. 
And when my dimmed eyes dare to face your 

own. 
Each seems a sky within which is inframed 
A world that holds my lifetime; and the light 
Beams like a sun there, scattering doubt and 
gloom.] {looking around.) 



388 CECIL THE SEER. 

But what a world you live in ! — Golden skies ? — 
Is it the sunset? 
Celia. Nay; you see no sun. 

Cecil. Is it the Indian Summer? 
Celia. Nay; you see 

The air is far too clear. 
Cecil. Is there a breeze? — 

I feel it fan me. 
Celia. Yet the leaves move not. 

Cecil. Why, every leaf glows fairer than a 
flower ! — 
It must be autumn. 
Celia (plucking a leaf, and handing it to him). 

Nay; these leaves are fresh. 
Cecil. I think I dream: — all things appear so 
strange ; 
Yet doubt I dream : — they all appear so clear. 
Celia {sitting on one of the lower steps, leading up 
to the arbor) . 
Does nothing seem familiar? 
Cecil (sitting, in a half kneeling position, on a 
step beside Celia, but lower than the one that 
she occupies, and gazing up reverentially 
toward her). 

No — yet, yes. 
[I dimly can recall what now appears 
A troubled, stormy sea, yet not a sea; 
And in the depth that which I call myself 
Seemed held and heaved as in some diving bell. 



CECIL THE SEER. 3^9 

But evermore in reveries and dreams, 

But most in dreams when outward sense 

would sleep 
My soul would be released, and rise and reach 
Fresh air, in which was breathed what gave 

fresh life ; 
Then, sinking downward, wake and work 

again, 
Till time for rest and fresh refreshment came. 
But never could my powers at work below 
Remember aught that blest them when above. 
Celia. And now 3'ou dream that somehow they 

came here ? 
Cecil. Oh, do not tell me that I now but 

dream ! — 
Nay, call it heaven? — Or is the rest of sleep 
But absence from the body while we draw 
New drafts of life from that which gave us 

life? 
Celia. What do you think? 
Cecil. I do not think at all. 

I only know I would that I were Adam, 
And you were Eve, created while I slept. 
Or is it true that all our souls create 
The things that they aspire for? — And are 

you,— 
You whom my very spirit seems to clasp 
And thrill forever at each tingling touch, 
Are you, indeed, the form of my ideal? 



390 CECIL THE SEER. 

Oh love, you seem as if at one with God; 
And yet I never thought a God could be 
So dear, {kneeling.) 

There have been monks in ecstasy 
Who saw — or thought they saw — the Virgin. 

I— 
I could not credit them. But now, it 



seems- 



Celia. You think that I 

Cecil. I know not what you are. 

I only know my soul had sought for you ; 
And now has found the search was not in vain. 
Why, and how is it that I know so well — 
How have you told me — what you are to 
me? 
Celia. I have not told you this; and He alone 
Who formed the spirit knows the how and 
why. 
Cecil. Who formed?— Why, that is God. I 
thought me dead. 

Yet here, I see not 

{gazing around and upward.) 
Celia. You had hoped, at death, 

To pass to Paradise, and be at rest. 
Move on: I have detained you. 

{rising, and waving him off with a gesture.) 
Cecil {rising anxiously) . I move on ? — 

And you stay here? — I cannot. There is not 
The littlest finger of the littlest nerve 



CECIL THE SEER, 39I ' 

In all my frame here, that could summon 

power 
To move where you moved not. 
Celia. Ah, then your will 

Is mightier than you deemed it ? You can rise 
But when you wish to rise? The haunts of 

heaven 
Need not have walls to keep you out of them ? 
{seating herself on a step higher than she occupied 

before.) 
Cecil {sitting beside^ but below her). 

Keep out of them? — Why, your sweet form 

alone 
Has brought me now a million, million times 
More than I ever dreamed that death could 
bring me. 
Celia. But where is your religion? 
Cecil. All was love. — 

Celia. And not the Christ — ? 
Cecil. Why, yes — that which he was — 

For which he died, — the spirit in the man, — 
In me, in you. — Ah, now it seems as if 
Each face I loved on earth but imaged yours ! — 
Why is it, dear one, that you seem to be 
So fully all things that they all could be ? 
And what love is it? — what, the halo here 
That seems to orb 3^ou in the sphere of God? 
Celia. Had you seen more of that, you might 
find out. 



392 CECIL THE SEER. 

Cecil. I would I could ! 

Celia {rising, as does also Cecil). 

And shall I help you to it? 
Cecil. I knew there was no wish within my soul 
That would not find an echo in your own. 
Where shall we go that we may find — ?] 
Celia {pointing toward the Right). You see 

Those coming? — Let us watch, and listen to 
them. 
{They enter the arbor, where, in view of the 

audience, they overlook the stage. 
Enter — Right — Lowe and Madam Lowe 
in gray Quaker costumes, resembling 
in most regards those of Cecil and 
Celia. 
{Blue-gray light illumines the stage.) 
Cecil {to Celia). 

They look like Lowe, the Quaker, and his wife. 
Lowe {to Madam L.). 

I feel so weary, j^et we wanted rest. 
Madam L. {to Lowe). 

Did I not walk with thee, I half might doubt 
The leading of this path. 
Lowe. I doubt it not, 

When leading thee. — Who ever saw thee 

decked 
In vain attire? 
Madam L. Or thee not grave and gray? 
Lowe. Or heard thee romp ? 



CECIL THE SEER. ' 393 

Madam L. Or thee hilarious? 

Lowe. Or found thee once the toy of giddy 

fancy ? 
Madam L. Or thee, of disconcerted calcula- 
tion? 
Lowe. None ever! — Yet I fear this path. — I 
thought 
I heard — and oh, I dared then listen twice! — 
I thought I heard strange singing — 
Madam L. Birds? — I thought 

I saw — and oh, I dared then look there twice ! — 
I thought I saw a wicked, grinning ape. 
Lowe. Hush, hush ! Think not of these things. 
Nay, but think 
Of things that God hath made. — I wonder if 

{becoming shrewd.) 
The holy city be completely built. 
Madam L. They might give thee a contract. 
Lowe. Well, they might ! 

[And if the saints be not all Friends 

Madam L. Sh— sh— 

Not that! — so loud! — I fear me, lest we doubt. 
Lowe. To doubt is charity, where to beHeve 
Is to condemn. Who knows but we could 

thrive 
Deprived of Friends — build churches. 
Madam L. Say not that. 

We may be taken down yet, where they use 
them. 



394 CECIL THE SEER. 

Lowe. I fear me some may use them here. 
For look ! — 

{Part of the stage is illuminated with red light,) 

The colors on the leaves, the very sky, 

Seem sadly gay. 
Madam L. Oh, do not look at them ! 

They glow to tempt the lusting of the eye.] 
Lowe. Sh! — what is that? Loud noise and 

music too! 
(Blaver and Miss Primwood are heard singing.) 

Oh, up and spout, and down and shout, 
And show the spirit off and out. 

Madam L. Oh, there may be a fiend here ! Let 

us hide. 
Exeunt — Right — Lowe and Madam L. hurriedly. 
Enter — Left — Blaver and Miss Prim- 
wood in blue clothes resembling those 
of Cecil and Celia. The stage is 
illumined with dark blue light. 
Cecil {to Celia). 

See! — Blaver and Miss Primwood, I should 
say. 
Blaver. We should have found the place ere 
this; or heard 

The blowing of the trumpets, or the shouts 

[Miss P. Of all the elders, yes. 

Blaver. We soon shall reach 



CECIL THE SEER. 395 

The place "where congregations ne'er break 

up."- 
Oh, I could talk forever! 
Miss P. So could I !— 

Yet, — do you know? — if I were not with you, 
I half should tremble, lest my feet were near 

The silence of the 

B LAYER {in a frightened way). 

Do not speak of that ! 
Keep talking. — Oh too true! — There are no 

shouts.] 
No one has got the power here. 
Miss P. It may be. 

They all have got it. 
Blaver. What if that were so? — 

Suppose they had. — Suppose that no one here 
Could ever find a spirit to reform — 
Not one to preach to, — how could saints here 

know 
About one's gifts? 
[Miss P. {agitated). 

Yes, yes; but keep on talking. 
To be with one who talks on, makes one 

sure 
The silence is not near. 
Blaver. Yes, let us talk. 

Perhaps, at times, to change a tune or text, 
The congregation pauses; and may hear, 
And send the sexton for us.] 



396 CECIL THE SEER. 

Enter — Right — stealthily, and dodging behind 

trees, Lowe and Madam L. 
Miss P. {pointing toward the Right). 

Who are they, 
So still, so backward, skulking through the 
shade ? 
Blaver. So backward and so still! — Are both 

bad signs. 
[Miss P. Though this were Paradise, there 
might be here 
Another serpent. 
Blaver. Or those like him ! — Would 

Be backward too, and not stand up for aught. 
Miss P. Would slip away. 
Blaver. Be still in doing it.] 

Miss P. {clinging to Blaver's arm). 

How wise that I did learn to be a woman, 

And cling to man! Ah, were I here alone 

Blaver. Those two seem slipping just like 
drunken sneaks 
Evading prohibition laws. — I have it: 
Heaven calls me to my mission. See them 

quail 
When I exhort them ! What is more religious 
[Than ministering discomfort? Rile folks 

up, 
Their dregs appear; they see their own foul 

depths.] 
You watch them now. — Hoho! hoho! hoho! 



CECIL THE SEER. 397 

(Blaver is gesturing toward the Right Entrance.) 
Enter — Right — Father Hycher, in a 
long red cassock, and Widow Hycher, 
in a red gown resembling a cassock. 
The stage is suddenly illumined with 
red light. 
Father H. {to Blaver). 

Hold, preaching fiend! How dare you block 

my path 
And raise that impious and schismatic shout? 
Down on 3^our knees. 
[{then to Lowe and Madam Lowe, who appear 
at the Left). 

Down on your knees. 
Madam Lowe. Vain souls, 

Trained on the earth to influence men through 

force. 
In realms where spirits have not forms that 

force 
Can harm, must find their occupation gone.] 
Exeunt — Left — Lowe and Madam Lowe. 
Cecil {to Celia, as he looks at the Hychers). 
Father and Widow Hycher, or their doubles ! — 
[The Quaker dame has not forgot her train- 
ing. 
Blaver {to Miss P., looking toward Madam L.). 
Expected to surprise her ! — failed ! — She 

knows 
The devil is deformed, and so wears robes. 



398 CECIL THE SEER. 

Miss P. They both wear like robes! — Are for 
woman's rights? 
And think the woman's best is in her gown? 
Widow H. {to Blaver, pointing to Father H.). 

He bade you kneel. 
Blaver {to Widow H.). Am I your suitor? — 
No; 
Nor his. You neither suit me. 
Widow H. {pointing to Father H.). It is time 

You go to 

Blaver. You go there yourself. Ay, ay; 

Be missionaries for me. I will not 
Be tempted that w^ay then. 

{to Miss P.) How strange that forms 
We meet in Paradise all seem to garb 
Our worst aversions ! 
Miss P. {anxiously). Yes, but — oh — exhort 

them!] 
Blaver {to Father and Widow H.). Hoho, 
hoho! 
Who rails at preaching proves his need of it. 
[Widow H. I feel as if a storm were near, and 
yet 
Were blowing music for me. 
Father H. (/^ Widow H.). Heard in heaven, 
Storms blowing from the mouth of hell make 
music. 
Blaver {to Miss P.). Their colors! they — they 
flag the foe for me. 



CECIL THE SEER. 399 

Are red as fire — are fire, perhaps; if so, 
Need stirring up, and showing — blowing up 
And out. Hoho, hoho!] 
{The Hychers disappear behind a rock.) 

Why, they seem gone? — 
Skulked off? — We might have known they 

would. Come follow. 
You sing, and I will shout. 

{moves toward the Right). 
Miss P. Not that way, no! 

{Both tur7i to the Left). 
Blaver and Miss P. {together). 

Hoho! hoho! hoho! hoho! 

We've all things here you need to know. 

Exeunt — Left — Blaver and Miss Primwood. 
{Reappear at the Right, Father Hycher and 

Widow Hycher.) 
Widow H. If I were not with you, I half 
might fear 
That we had wholly missed the narrow path, 
But with my shepherd near me, all is well. 
[Father H. How strange that I have found not 
yet a flock. 
Nor sheepfold, not a single hedge, forsooth. 
In which to drive a single soul ! 
Widow H. Like that — 

Where all were kept so safe — no schism 
there ! — 



400 CECIL THE SEER. 

The walls were always echoing back the 

words 
You spoke; and no one else was let to speak. 
Father H. All heard what they beHeved. 
Widow H. Could they do else 

Than to believe what they were always 

hearing ? — 
Dear words, how we must thank them for our 
faith! 
Father H. Without our words men might be 

left with nature. 
Widow H. Just think of that! — And where 

would nature bear them? 
Father H. Off from the church, I fear. 
Widow H. Yes, yes, and off — ■ 

Off from the priest. 
Father H. From God, as well? 

Widow H. I fear— 

For He is so unnatural. 
Father H. You mean 

Is supernatural. 
Widow H . Mysterious ! — 

Creates our reason, yet condemns its use. 
I never used my reason — did not dare. 
Father H. You were a modest, model woman, 

yes. 
Widow H. And you a model man — no monk 
with me; 
Yet ever showed the world a pious face. 



CECIL THE SEER. 401 

Father H. I did. They lied who said I did 
not care 
For truth. How oft, for it, I held my tongue ! 
Widow H. And so held on to truth — 
Father H. And kept it sacred. 

Widow H. And easy too for us, who need not 
find it. 
For my part, I would rather have no truth 
Than risk damnation, planning how to use it. 
How kind the priest to do our thinking for 

us, 
And make us, through not thinking, think 
just right ! 
Father H. But you did thinking — when I 

thought — 
Widow H. Of course. 

When you thought for me. — Is that what you 

mean? 
And now, and here, too, you will think for 
me? 
Father H. Could I do else?] 
Widow H. And when we reach the gates, 
You promise not to leave me; for, you know, 
I never learned the language of the spirit ; 
And might not know it, were not you beside 
me. 

Father H. I — yes — but if 

Widow H. There was no if in what 

You used to say. 
26 



402 CECIL THE SEER. 

Exeunt — Left — Father Hycher and Widow 
Hycher. 
{The red light changes to golden, and Cecil 
and Celia come out from the arbor, 
and, while speaking, gradually descend 
to the stage.) 
Cecil. They did not see us. 

Celia. No, 

For they did not look up. 
Cecil. I know, but why ? — 

Where all things round them were so new and 
strange ? 
Celia. The spirit is the slave of its desire. 

They did not care to look above themselves. 
[Cecil. Pray tell me v/ho they were. They 
seemed so near, 
And yet so many million miles away. 
They looked like people, too, whom once I 

knew ; 
Yet moved like cuckoos jointed on a clock, 
Accenting nothing they have thought them- 
selves, 
Or have the force to make another think. 
Celia. They seemed as if lost souls. 
Cecil (startled). Lost souls, you say? 

Celia. Did you not note them — how they wan- 
dered on; 
Nor knew their destination? 
Cecil. Heaven forbid! 



CECIL THE SEER. 403 

Celia. Why pray for this? — You think that 
force rules here, — 

That spirits are not free to wander where 

Their own ideals bear them? 
Cecil. Those they formed 

On earth, you mean? 
Celia. Where else could they be formed ? 

Cecil. And whither, think you, will ideals bear 

Those whom we just have seen? 
Celia. Where would you deem 

These could be realized — save on the earth ? 
Cecil. But some of them seemed looking for 

their Christ. 
Celia. I fear those looking but for their own 
Christ 

May sometimes fail to find the Christ of God. 
Cecil. But will they never find Him? 
Celia. Do you think 

That those in search for but a false ideal. 

Could recognize Him, even should they find 
Him? 
Cecil. Is not the Christ of God in all the 

churches ? 
Celia. Is He not preached through men ? 
Cecil. And are not men 

Controlled ? — inspired ? 
Celia. And, if so, from what source? 

Are there no spirits in the line between 

Divinity and man? — And what of man, — 



404 CECIL THE SEER. 

This urn of earth in which the true seed 
falls?— 

There was an Arab in Mohammed's time; 

In Joan of Arc's there was a maid of France. 
Cecil. But would you grant their claim? 
Celia. Some keen as you 

BeHeved it true. And is it charity 

To deem them dupes? 
Cecil. But one must rate them thus, 

Or call upon their prophets. 
Celia. Think you so? 

One hears of gypsies telling what comes 
true. 

Does this truth prove them seers of all the 
truth? 

Believe not every spirit; prove 

Cecil. But how? 

Celia. How but by what is told, and character 

Of him who tells it? To the true soul, truth 

Appeals to taste, as beauty to the sense; 

Its test is quality. The like comes from like. 

Their inspiration is the nearest God's 

Whose life and love seem nearest Him. 
Cecil. May those 

Not near Him be inspired too? 
Celia. Why may not 

Some lower phase of spirit-power, earth- borne 

To live for matter only, still intent 

To live for matter, take abode in them, 



CECIL THE SEER. 405 

And work its will upon their willing souls? 
Why differs it, though they may rise on 

earth 
Impelled through emulation to enforce 
Their wills on others; or, through appetite 
May fall, and yield control of reason's reins 
To that which drives them on to lust and 

crime ? — 
A spirit that inspires through selfishness 
To mean success or failure, equally 
May vex as by a devil made incarnate 
Oneself and all about him. 
Cecil. Poor weak man! 

Celia. Weak ever — save when conscious of his 

need.] 
Enter — Left — Freeman and Faith dressed like 

Cecil and Celia. 
Freeman {advancing, speaking to the two, and 
pointing toward the Back). 
Does this path lead us upward ? 
Celia. Yes, it does. 

Freeman {looking at Cecil, and speaking to 
him) . 
Why, why, friend, is this you? 

{to Celia.) And Celia too? — 
Celia. Your friends, at least, whoever we may 

be. 
(Cecil and Celia shake hands with Freeman 
and Faith.) 



406 CECIL THE SEER. 

Cecil {to Freeman). 

And Freeman — you with Faith? — I join your 

joy. 
Why, it fulfills my dream for you. 
Freeman. And mine! 

{to Faith, and gesturing toward their surround- 
ings.) 
How much, with each new step, th' horizon 
widens. 
[Faith. How could one bide below ! 
Freeman {thoughtfully, and pointing toward the 
Left), Ask Father Hycher. 

Faith. And he — he was a good and learned man ! 
Freeman. Less good than learned, darling. 
Your pure soul 
Breathed such an atmosphere about itself, 
Your very presence could impart an air 
Of sacredness to all brought near to 3^ou.] 
Faith {to Celia, while Freeman turns to Cecil). 
So strange it is how much more wise and wide 
His views are here than seem the views of 

those 
Who, on the earth, appeared so much more 
learned. 
Celia. Not strange! — Though spirit-life be 
lived in thought. 

Where thought pervades the atmosphere like 

air, 
What can its measure be, for any mind. 



CECIL THE SEER. 407 

Save that mind's receptivity? If so, 

When freed from bounds conditioning human 

thought, 
It is a mind not filled so much as open, 
Where waits not bigotry but charity. 
Although with little learning, that first thrills 
To tides that flow from infinite resources. 
Freeman {who has turned to listen to the latter 
part of what she has been saying) . 
Is this a revelation? 
Celia. Ay, to those 

Who heed the truth behind the words I use; 
And yet for those who heed this truth them- 
selves 
I do not need to term it revelation. 
Freeman. We soon, I hope, can test it for 
ourselves. 
Farewell, kind friends, until we meet above. 
(Freeman and Faith shake hands with Cecil 

and Celia.) 
Celia. Farewell. 
Cecil. Farewell. 

(Freeman and Faith pass upward through, or 
around the arbor, till, finally they disappear.) 
Exeunt — at the Back — Freeman and Faith. 
Cecil {looking at them as they ascend). 
Oh happy, blessed pair! 

{Part of the following is then chanted by the 
choir, either invisible, or visible at the 



408 CECIL THE SEER. 

rear of the stage. During the singing, 
Celia and Cecil gradually ascend 
to the arbor where both sit. 

Two springs of life, — in air and earth ; 

Two tides, — in soul and sod; 
Two natures, — wrought of breath and birth ; 

Two aims, — in cloud and clod; — 
Oh, where were worlds, or where were worth 

Without the two, and God? 

Two movements in the heaving breast, 

Two, in the beating heart; 
Two, in the swaying soldier's crest; 

Two, in the strokes of art ; — 
Oh where in aught of mortal quest, 

Are e'er the two apart? 

Two times of day, — in gloom and glow; 

Two realms — of dream and deed; 
Two seasons — bringing sod and snow; 

Two states — of fleshed and freed; — 
Oh where is it that life would go, 

But through the two they lead? 

Two frames that meet, — the strong, the fair, 

True love in both begun; 
Two souls that form a single pair; 

Two courses both have run; — 
Oh where is life in earth or air, 

And not with these at one? 

Cecil (pointing in the direction taken by Free- 
man and Faith). 
And now they rest? 



CECIL THE SEER. 409 

Celia. Why not ? What now remains 

Of an ideal to bear them back to earth? — 
Or what to learn from mortals ? 
Cecil. Learn from mortals ? 

[Can mortals aid immortals ? 
Celia. Life is one. 

Our daily deeds bring sweeter dreams at 

night; 
And sweeter dreams more strength for daily 

deeds. 
If thought may pass from sphere to sphere, 

why not 
The benefit of thought? 
Cecil. Why, this were strange! 

Celia. If strangeness were a test of what is 
false, 
Most things that are believed v/ould not be 
true. 
Cecil. But high and heavenly spirits helped by 

human ?] 
Celia. Why should not all in heaven or earth 
be helped 
By all with whom in spirit they are one? 
[Were you on earth, the while your soul aspired, 
Could mine not move up with you ? What you 

learned, 
Could it not ever be a part of me ? 
Cecil. Why, this is that for which I so have 
longed ! 



410 CECIL THE SEER. 

And once with one I thought that I had found 

it. 
Ah, can it be the halo crowning her, 
Was your sweet face behind the face I saw ? — 
Yet — were it right to turn from her to you ? 
Celia. All ties are right that make true life 
more bright. 
Think you that she had not her own ideal? 

{gesturing toward the Right.) 
And were her soul but free to pass to it, 
Do you imagine she would pass to you?] 
Cecil {looking toward the Right) . 

My wife with Kraft? — How can it be? — and 

yet 

{The stage is suddenly illumined with brown light.) 

Enter — Right — Kraft and Madam Cecil, 

dressed in dark brown clothes, shaped 

like those of Cecil and Celia. 

Madam Cecil {to Kraft). It matters not what 

we have done. Have faith. 
Kraft {to Madam Cecil with suppressed fear). 
But should I meet my wife whose will I broke. 

Whose slaves were not set free 

Madam C. Have faith, have faith! 

Kraft. Or should we two meet Cecil 

[Madam C. {in abject fear). Oh, oh, oh, 

Speak not of that! It all is paid. Have faith. 
Kraft {doubtingly) . 

Yet some would talk of proving faith by works. 



CECIL THE SEER. 41I 

Madam C. I joined the church when scarcely 
sweet sixteen, 
And never danced, except away from home. 
Kraft. And I, when I was twenty; and I never 

Let people see me backslide. 
Madam C. And I always 

Professed to take an interest in the meetings. 
Kraft . And how men praised me for my church- 
subscriptions, 
And for my faith that God would, someway, 
pay them! 
Madam C. Yes, we were both so careful to seem 
right! 

Kraft. But yet, should we meet Cecil ] 

Madam C. {shuddering). Oh, oh, oh, 
Not him! not him! 

{recovering herself suddenly.) 

He never can come here. 
Kraft {eagerly) . 

You think so — eh? — Why not? 
Madam C. {sententiously) . He lost his faith. 
Kraft {with cringing hope). 

Is that so? — Yes? — but how? 
Madam C. Why, just because 

Our pastor said, one time, of slavery. 
The institution was divine, God's own, 
He never after set foot in that church. 
[Kraft {with self-congratulatory delight). 
Oh. is that so! 



412 CECIL THE SEER. 

Madam C. Besides, he sometimes owned 

To other 

Kraft. Other what ? 

Madam C. Alisgivings. 

Kraft {with assumed horror). Not 

Believe in things men preached? 
Madam C. {sanctimoniously). He doubted 

them. 
Kraft {decisively). 

Then he did not have faith. 
Madam C. No; he did not. 

Kraft. I learned the catechism in my youth; 
And always said, when asked, that it was 
true. 
Madam C. Thank God for that ! He was not 

trained as you were. 
Kraft. You know I would not let an ignorant 
man, 
A slave or poor white, meet me in my parlor. 
Madam C. No; never! 

Kraft. When a man is ignorant 

About the doctrines — doubts them, — how can 

he 
Expect that God will welcome him? 
Madam C. Just so ! 

We never have a God we understand 
Until we learn to judge Him by ourselves.] 

(Celia, beckoning to Cecil who follows 
her, comes from the arbor, and moves 



CECIL THE SEER. 413 

toward Kraft and Madam C, whoy 
being at the front of the stage facing 
the audience, do not see them.) 
Kraft (in self-congratulatory way). 

Your husband then had really lost his faith? 
I wonder if my wife had not lost hers. 
Madam C. Did she not free her slaves? — Our 
pastor said 
The institution was divine. 
Kraft (deliberatingly) . Yes, yes. 

Madam C. She did not think it so. 
Kraft. But I did, I, — 

I broke her will. 
Madam C. And saved her. — 

Kraft. What?— Oh, yes!— 

Saved her from the results 

Celia (to Kraft and Madam C, as she points 
to Cecil). What sophistry 

Is this? 
Madam C. (falling on her knees before Cecil, in 
abject fear). 

Oh, Master, did I not have faith? 
Kraft (also falling on his knees before Cecil) . 

Did I not often say "Good Lord" in prayer? 
[Madam C. Did I not bear my cross? — 
Kraft. A diamond cross 

I gave her? — 
Madam C. I embroidered one. I showed 

My faith by works. 



414 CECIL THE SEER. 

Kraft. I, in my business, — 

Oh, how my slaves would work at those church 
fairs !] 
Cecil {to Celia). 

Are they insane? 
Celia. In part. 

Cecil. Heard you the name 

They called us? 
Celia. His who said that "Inasmuch 

As ye have done it to the least of these, 

My brethren, ye, have done it unto Me." 
Madam C. Oh, Master, wherefore are we here? 
Cecil {to Celia). Where do 

They think themselves? 
Celia. Where false and hellish moods 

Create a false and hellish world to live in. 
Cecil {to Kraft and Madam C). 

What seems the trouble ? What is it you fear ? 
Kraft. Oh, Master! 
Madam C. Master! 

[Cecil Why do you say that ? 

Madam C. You are so holy, and we are so base. 
Kraft. Oh, wherefore did I kill you? 
Madam C. Wherefore, oh, 

Oh, wherefore did I load you with abuse? — 

I did not know you then. 
Cecil. Nor know me now. 

Am I your master? 
Kraft. It was you we harmed. 



CECIL THE SEER. 415 

Cecil. What would you that I do for you? 
Madam C. Oh let 

Us pay it back. 
Kraft. Yes, let us pay it back. 

Celia. Pay what back? What? — You said, 
"It all is paid. 

Have faith." Your faith means faith that 
God forgives. 

If he forgive you, why not feel forgiven? 
Madam C. You mock us. 
Kraft. Mock us.] 

Cecil {to Celia). Tell me what to say. 

And is there nothing one can do for them 

To free them from their misery ? 
Celia. They say 

There is, and truly. Though the Lord for- 
give. 

In spirit how can spirits feel forgiven 

Ere they undo the wrong their lives have 
wrought ? 

Ere this had been undone, not even laws 

Of Moses let the trespasser receive 

The benefit of sacrifice ; and how 

Could heavenly joys crown even perfect love 

Save as it served the soul it once had harmed? 
Cecil {to Madam C. and Kraft). 

What is it, then, that you would do for me? 
Kraft. What you had done, had we not stayed 
your work. 



41 6 CECIL THE SEER. 

Cecil {to Celia). 

What? — Is it possible? — my plans, my hopes 
Can be fulfilled yet? and fulfilled through 
these ? — 

{to Kraft and Madam C.) 
Well, it may be so. You may serve your time. 
[Madam C. Ah, now I know, indeed, that 

Heaven is true ! 
Kraft. And now I know, indeed, the Lord 

forgives !] 
Celia. But prove your faith by your fidelity. 
(Celia points toward the Right Rear En- 
trance. As she does so, E^iter — Right 
Rear — Jem and Milly. Their dresses 
are of a grayer shade, hut otherwise they 
resemble those of Cecil and Celia. 
As Kraft and Madam C. turn 
toward the Right, they see Jem and 
Milly, and draw hack affrighted.) 
Madam C. See those grim messengers of tor- 
ture coming! 
Cecil {to Celia). 

Why, those are Jem and Milly, our old slaves! 
She tried to thwart me, when I set them free. 
Celia. She thinks them fiends. 
Cecil. How blind ! Their dusky hues 

To me seem fair-formed shadows cast before 
The light of coming angels. 

(Celia and Cecil, at her apparent hiddhig, 



CECIL THE SEER. 417 

seat themselves again on some of the 
steps leading up to the arbor, and from 
there listen to the following.) 
Madam C. {to Jem and Milly, kneeling before 
them) . Spare my soul ! 

Jem. a little thing ter spare! — I 'spects I will. 
Madam C. You will not drive me off to tor- 
ment then? 
Jem. Come, come, ole missus, yer mixed up on dis. 
De debil not so black as he am painted. 
He's white, — a missus too! When yer gets 

dah {pointing down), 
Jes' take one look in dat ah lake. You'll see 
'im. 
Madam C. Oh, oh, then you have seen him? 
Jem. Wall, I's been 

Dun gone down da below, — a slave, yer see. 
But now, I's heah. 
Madam C. And I must be your slave? 

Jem. No; we's not mean enough ter own no 

slaves, {gesturing toward jMilly.) 
Madam C. You would not drive us to the 

darkness ? 
Jem. No 

We's come away from dah, or 'spected so 

Till we met {he looks at her sharply.) 

Madam C. Who? Oh, take me not 

Jem. Fur 'im?— 

Law sakes alive ! Yer kneelin' I 
27 



4l8 CECIL THE SEER. 

Madam C. I will serve 

For all my life 

Jem. De debil? — better not! 

(Jem and Milly turn to leave at the Right Rear 

Entrance.) 
Madam C. I must pay back the service forced 
from you. 
You will not, cannot, must not cast me off. 
Jem {turning around toward her). 

Dem folks dat's free perfers ter choose deir 
help. 
Exeunt — Right Rear — ^Jem and Milly, hurriedly. 
Madam C. {to Kraft who seems to desire to 
linger) . 
Oh, we must overtake them! 

{She pidls Kraft after her.) 
Exeunt — Right Rear — Madam C. and Kraft. 
{As they leave, the stage is illumifted with golden 

light.) 
Celia {looking after them). Who can tell 
What ages it may take to overtake 
The wrong one's own wrong lashes into 
flight ! 
Cecil. Where are they going? 
Celia. Earthward, so it seems. 

Cecil. And will she serve her slaves ? 
Celia. Why should she not ? 

Why should not those who were the most 
oppressed 



CECIL THE SEER. 4^9 

Have most that serve them where but souls 

are served? 
All things inverted and turned inside out, 
The last in station may become the first, 
The lowly lordlike and the high the low, 
The crown'd the chain'd, the crucified the 
crown' d. 
[Cecil. But how and where can spirits right 

their wrong ? 
Celia. Wherever spirits influence the spirit. 
Cecil. Ah, then, through others' lives they 

work their work? 
Celia. Perchance they may; perchance they 

may do more. 
Cecil. Do more? — What mean you? — ^live 
again on earth? — 
Nay, if they shall, they have lived; yet who 

ever 
Met mortal yet whose memory could recall 
A former state? 
Celia. He might recall the state 

Without the circumstance. To know, be- 
speaks 
Experience. To be born with intuitions 
And insight, is to know. To sun new growth 
Why should not all be given an equal chance 
Unshadow'd by dark memories of the past? 
Cecil. But if the past were bright ? 
Celia. If wholly so. 



420 CECIL THE SEER. 

Would one need progress? or could he be 

cursed 
With deeper woe than thought that could 

recall, 
Enslaved in flesh, a former liberty? 
Why lure to suicide, that, breaking through 
The lines determining development, 
May plunge the essence down to deeper depths 
There planted till new growth take root anew? 
Cecil. Must all new growth be planted in the 

earth ? 
Celia. Is any germ that grows not planted 

there ? 
Cecil. What trains it then? 
Celia. Some say that where it falls 

In age, clime, country, family, fleshly form, 
The mighty wheels of matter — earth and 

moon. 
And sun and planets, all the unseen stars 
Of all the universe that round it roll — 
With one unending whirl grind out its fate; 
Yet only earthly fate. Flung to and fro. 
And torn by care and toil and pain and loss, 
The spirit knows in spirit it is free; 
And true to its high nature, may pass through 
The terror of the ordeal with all 
The finer flour of nature's grain preserved. 
Cecil. So though careers be fated, souls are 

free ? 



CECIL THE SEER. 42 1 

Celia. The consciousness of freedom comes 
from force 
Which is of heaven; the consciousness of fate 
From that which is of earth; and both are 

true; 
0^ that which makes all feel them both is 
false. 
Cecil. But if some spirits thus return to earth, 

Why not all spirits? 
Celia. Who has traced for you 

The history of spirits ? If they came 
From God, as matter came, why came they 

not 
With matter ? 
Cecil. What? — Through beasts and birds, you 

mean? 
Celia. Why not ? — Why should not these have 
endless life ? 
Why, if they have it, should their course be 

checked 
Ere they attain the highest? — and, if not, 
Why should their essence not move up through 
man? 
Cecil. Is man the son of beasts ? 
Celia. In flesh why not ? — 

But may be born of flesh and of the Spirit. 
Devoid of spirit, all the body's nerves 
Are lifeless as the wires, when rent apart, 
Which once were thrilling with electric force. 



422 CECIL THE SEER. 

But ah! that force, though flown to air, conies 

back 
To give new life wherever new forms fit it. 
So, while the whole creation of the flesh. 
In groans and travails of successive births, 
Prepares each new formation for its need. 
Why should not psychic force, the breath of 

Him 
In whom all live and move and have their 

being. 
With rhythm mightier than the pulse of lungs, 
Or day and night, or autumn and the spring, 
Pass up through all the lower ranks of life. 
Through birth and on through death, from air 

to breath. 
From breath to air, till, last, it reaches man; 
And, taught the lesson there of human hands 
Which master matter, and of each man make 
A fellow-worker in creation's work. 
And, taught the lesson of the human voice, 
Which for each new conception frames a word 
To phase and phrase it, and of each man 

makes 
A fellow-thinker in creation's thought, — 
Why should not this force, moulded by the 

hand 
And head, attain in man its final end, 
And dowered with will and reason, freed at 

death 



CECIL THE SEER. 423 

From its material framework, hold its mould, 

And reach the last result of all that is, 

Where that which served the serpent is the 
son, — 

A spirit in the image of the Father? 
Cecil. These words recall an ancient eastern 
dream ; 

And, in one's waking hours, can it be true? 
Celia. Think you a true soul ever served a 
thought 

Not souled in truth, whatever were its form? 
Cecil. But what then of the Christ ? 
Celia. Did he not say 

He lived in spirit ere he lived on earth ? — 
Cecil. He said he came for others. 
Celia. Do you think 

A spirit such as his would need to come 

For his own good? 
Cecil. And yet that sacrifice? — 

Celia. He sacrificed the spirit-life for life 

On earth, and life on earth for spirit-life. 
Cecil. And but fulfilled a common role? 
Celia. Not common, 

Did he fulfill our spirit's best ideal; 

For spirits live in thought. How can they 
know 

Of any God beyond their thought of him? 
Cecil. But if they know the Son ? 
Celia. They know, at best, 



424 CECIL THE SEER. 

A " Son of Man, " as well, too, as " of God, " — 
In spirit one with Him, but not in frame. 
Cecil. And yet a "Saviour" — 
Celia. What inspires, but spirit? — 

Or saves, but inspiration? He — enough — 
All must move upward would they find the 
Christ, {rising and pointing upward.) 
Cecil {rising) . 

But ought they not to work for others too? 
Celia. In spirit those work most for truth, who 
most 
Are true; for all are led, yet all are leaders. 
Thus does the line of being bridge the gulf 
Between the world of worm and fire, — the 

hell 
As well as home of all not saved from matter — 
And that eternal rest where souls, made free 
From longer craving a material frame 
Through which to signal their vain selfhood, 

lose 
Their lower life to find a higher life, 
Where now their spirits are at one with His 
Whose life of love is theirs who love his 

life; 
And, even as the Christ is in the Father, 
So, too, become joint heirs with Him of all 
things. 
(Celia and Cecil move upward, and finally 
disappear.)] 



CECIL THE SEER. 425 

Exeunt — at the Back — Celia and Cecil. 
In the meantime, part of the following 
is chanted by a choir, either invisible 
or visible at the rear of the stage. 

In the world of care and sorrow 

Cloud and darkness veil the way, 
But in heaven there waits a morrow 

Where the night will turn to day, 
Where the spirit-light in rising, 

Yet will gild the clouds of fear, 
And the shadows, long disguising, 

Lift and leave the landscape clear. 

When the soul, amid that glory, 

Finds its earthly garments fall. 
Harm and anguish end their story. 

Health and beauty come to all; 
No more fleshly chains can fetter 

Faith that longs to soar above; 
None to duty seems a debtor. 

And the only law is love. 

There is ended earthly scheming. 

Earthly struggle sinks to sleep; 
Souls have passed from deed to dreaming, 

And they have no watch to keep; 
For the world has wrought its mission, 

And the wheels of labor rest ; 
And the faithful find fruition, 

And the true become the blest. 

{The stage is darkened; and the curtain that 
formed the back of Scene First in this 
Act falls upon it.) 



426 CECIL THE SEER. 

Scene Third: — Same as Scene First of this Act, 
While the stage is still dark, unseen hy the 
audience, 

Enter — Left — Cecil, in dressing-gown 
covering completely the dress worn 
by him in the last scene. He reclines 
on the bed, where his effigy was in the 
First Scene of this Act. 
(The stage is made light.) 
Enter — Left — Celia, dressed as in Scene 
First of this Act. In addition, she 
brings a hat and shawl, which, as she 
becomes visible to audience, she is seen 
putting on. 

Enter — Right — ^Jem. 
Celia {to Jem). 

The time has come to take my morning walk. 
I almost fear to leave him. You will stay 
While I am gone, and keep good watch? 
Jem. Yes, Missus. 

Fo' Gawd, dey done dare hahm de ole Marse 

now. 
What dey would hahm would be de udder 
pusson. 

Exit — Left — Celia. 
(After waiting a moment, Jem opens the door at 
the Left, looks about, closes the door, then 
crosses to the door at the Right, opens it, 
looks out, and speaks.) 



CECIL THE SEER. 4^7 

Now yer's all safe, suh. She 'ab gone away. 
Enter — Right — Kraft, Madam Cecil and 
two Men, all dressed in out-door 
costume. All of them except Kraft 
cross the stage toward the couch. 
Kraft remains behind, and, taking a 
bank-note from his pocket-book, holds 
it in front of Jem's mouth. 
Kraft {to Jem). Will this patch keep that 

mouth shut? 
Jem {taking the money and pocketing it.) 

Law now, Marse, 
And pocket, too, suh. 
Kraft. You are wise, my man. 

(Kraft crosses to the alcove where Madam 

C. and the two Men have been looking 

at Cecil. He looks at Cecil, and 

speaks to them.) 

No doubt! — You see the man is living 

still. 
You both can swear to that? 



First Man. 


Oh, yes. 


Second Man. 


Yes, yes. 


Kraft {to Jem). 




What says the doctor, Jem? 


Will he recover? 


Jem. I 'spec' he 'spec's it. 




Kraft {to Madam Cecil). 


We are safe, at 


least. 




Has lived now long enough- 


-for that. 



428 CECIL THE SEER. 

Madam C. Yet I 

Could almost pray to know that he was dead ! 
Cecil {in bewilderment, starting suddenly, and 
sitting up in the bed) . 
And did you think I wanted to be living ? 

Curtain. 



ACT THIRD. 

An interval of two year is supposed to elapse 
between the occurrences in Acts Second and 
Third. 

Scene First: — A room in the house of Freeman, 
who has married Celia, and is living with her 
in a Northern ''Border'' State. Near the cen- 
ter of the room, set with dishes for a meal, is a 
table. Bread and a pitcher of milk have already 
been placed on it. Three or four chairs are near 
the table. At the Left is a closet, and about 
the room other articles of furniture. Backing, a 
wall containing a window or door; also a mirror 
near the Left Rear. Entrances by doors at the 
Right and Left near the Front. 

The rising curtain reveals Jem with overcoat and 
hat on, standing in front of the table, also 

MiLLY. 

Jem {to Milly). 

De station am a mile off. Whar's de dahky 
Dat wouldn't get hungry 'foah he got dat fah? 
(taking bread from the table and putting it into 
his pocket.) 
429 



430 CECIL THE SEER. 

Dey all don't want to see 'im stahve; not dey! 
An' dry up, no! 
{taking up the milk-pitcher, and looking at it.) 
Why, 'sakes alive! dah's marse — 
And what's he call me calf faw? 
{pouring out, evidently against Milly's protests, 
a tumhler-ful of milk, drinking it, then 
hiding the tumbler in the closet.) 

Dat am good. 
Dis dahky's glad dat ole Marse Cecil's comin'. 
But ole Marse Cecil, — wondeh how he'll take 
To seein' his Miss Celia Missus Freeman. 
It 'peahed as how he liked dat ah young gal, 
An' when ole Missus Cecil she got out 
An' married dat Marse Kraft, why, you an' 

me. 
We 'spected how Marse Cecil *d like to get 
As fuh de oder way wid his Miss Celia. — 
But now Marse Freeman's got her, got her 
tight. 
Exit — Left — MiLLY who has evidently heard 
someone coming. 
Enter — Left — Freeman and Celia. 
Freeman {to Jem). 

It's time to go, Jem. 
Jem. Go ? — I's goin*, — gone ! 

Exit — Right — Jem . 
Celia {arranging the dishes on the table, and 
suspiciously examining the bread-plate and 



CECIL THE SEER. 43 1 

milk-pitcher, while shaking her head at the 
departing Jem) . 
[Did Faith look well?] 
Freeman {seating himself in one of the chairs, and 
taking a newspaper from his pocket and 
unfolding it). [Much as she did of old. 
But paler — that is, till she chanced on me. 
Celia. And then? 
Freeman. She flushed. 

Celia. It needed but a spark 

To kindle the old fire. 
Freeman. In her? — or me? — 

I saw no light. I only thought of ashes. 
Celia. I know her nun's veil seemed a shroud 

to you. 
Freeman. Your white one, Celia, when I mar- 
ried you. 
Seemed like an angel's. Now that you have 

dropped it, 
I know it was. 
Celia. I thank you. Yet, at times, 

I fear mere pity led you to propose. 
Freeman. Was it your pity led you to accept? 
Celia. You know you thought that I had closed 
the door 
To every other suitor by my act 
In closing it on all except us two 
When we were nursing Cecil. 
Freeman. And you know 



432 CECIL THE SEER. 

You thought that I had closed the door on 

Faith, 
Because of that which Father Hycher said. 
But — nonsense! — what if pity were a motive? 
Celia. Pity is but a sadder kind of love — 
Freeman. No love at all. But as a motive to 
it— 
A door to open, — why complain of it, 
If only opening where we wish to go? 
(Celia, having ended arranging the things on the 
table, stands back looking at it).] 
And all is ready — is it? — for our guest? 
Celia. To think that Cecil should be here, and 

well! 
Freeman. And such a note as his too ! Why, a 
boy, 
A boy in love, could not more gracefully 
Let tumble forth from his embarrassed lips 
The whole sweet burden of his blushing 

cheeks, 
Than he did, pelting, helter-skelter, out 
Those metaphors at us, to vent his joy 
In welcoming our own ! 
Celia. How strange he felt so! 

Freeman. Strange? — I am worthy of you; you 
of me; 
And both of us of Cecil's interest. 
He knows how we two nursed him. Now, at 
last, 



CECIL THE SEER. 433 

His voyage at an end, his health restored, 
It ought to give him joy, and pride as well, 
To learn how we, through love for him, at 

first. 
Have come to love each other. Every soul 
Is proudest of the good itself has fathered. 
Celia. I know; and Cecil has a heart so kind! 
But I must go, and get the breakfast ready. 
Freeman {rising and taking Celia's hand). 
But, first, my Celia, let me break my fast. 

{kisses her.) 
One kiss of yours could make the thrilling 

lips 
Go fluttering all day long like Cupid's wings 
To bear sweet words of love to all they meet. 
Exit — Left — Celia. 
[(Freeman apparently addressi7ig the reflection of 

himself in the mirror,) 
I told no lie. She lights my life with joy. 
But, oh, had she been Faith, joy had been 

bliss ! — 
Poor Celia, she shall never learn the truth. 
She thinks my nature water. I did once: 
As each new face looked love upon its 

depths, 
I thought they might be filled with that ; but 

ah, 
My heart is like a photographer's glass 
Whereon the image once impressed remains; 
28 



434 CECIL THE SEER. 

And Celia's face is always framed in Faith's. 
I fear I love the picture for the frame. — ] 
Why, Cecil here already? — must be he — 
Enter — Left — Milly, crossing the room and 
opening the door at the Right. 
Enter — Right — Cecil followed by Jem. 
Both wear out-door costumes, Cecil 
an overcoat. He also carries a cane 
and limps. As he enters, he shakes 
hands with Milly and with Freeman. 
A hearty welcome, friend! I saw you coming. 
How well you look! You are well too, not 
so? 
Cecil {removing his hat, which Jem takes). 

Oh, yes. 
Freeman {noticing that Cecil limps). 

Lame yet? — 
Cecil. Shall always be. One foot 

Was caught inside the grave. I pulled away; 
But drag the foot-stone. 
Freeman {helping Cecil take off his overcoat). 

Not the head-stone though ! 
Cecil. I hope not. 

Freeman {handing Cecil's overcoat to Jem, who 
takes it in addition to the hat). 

Here, Jem, take these out with you. 
(Freeman turns to get a chair for Cecil.) 
Jem {aside to Milly) . 

I'd like to see what ole Marse Cecil'll do 



CECIL THE SEER. 435 

When he fine out Miss Celia's Missus Free- 
man. 
I know, from what he say, dat he don't 'spec 
so. 

Exit — Right — Jem. 
Exit— Left— M11.UY. 
Freeman {placing a chair behind Cecil). 

Sit here, {also handing Cecil the newspaper) . 

Cecil {sitting in the chair and looking around the 

room) . 

I thank you. — What a pleasant home! 

And have you heard, of late, about my wife? 

Freeman. You knew she married Kraft? 

How mean in her ! 
Cecil. Oh, no; not that! 
Freeman {sitting). But getting her divorce — 

Accusing you ! 
Cecil. Kraft managed it, of course. 

I had deserted her. 
Freeman. You could not help it. 

Cecil. No; thanks to her — and heaven! But 
let that rest. 
When one has well nigh slept the sleep of 

death — 
You know I thought me dead — it seems not 

sad, 
On waking, to begin one's life anew. 
Freeman. And we too thought you dead. 
Cecil. I acted so? 



436 CECIL THE SEER. 

Freeman. You acted not at all. You did not 

stir. 
Cecil. No wonder ! Had you seen what I saw 
then, 
Your senses would have been as hushed as 
mine. 
Freeman. What was it? 
Cecil. One might say a vision — dream — 

Perhaps a trance. — Wait, till I tell you it. 
Freeman. If dreams came true, a man might 

prize them more. 
Cecil. At times, they do come true. Mine will. 
The power 
That handles Kraft can make that devil spin 
Like potter's clay to work out his designs. 
It all was prophesied. 
Freeman. Was prophesied ? 

Cecil. Yes, — in my vision, — all about — your 

marriage. 
Freeman. My marriage ? 
Cecil. Yes, and then such joy for me! — 

And sure to come too ! 
Freeman. Sure? — I envy you. 

Cecil. I thought me dead. I woke and all 
was life. 
Above, I saw the stars; far east, the dav*m. 
If earth rolls on, it yet will bring full day. 
Freeman. And bright may heaven, too, make 
it! 



CECIL THE SEER. 437 

Cecil. That it will. 

Earth is a field where hidden treasure lies. 
All search for it. Their searching wakes their 

thoughts, 
And draws out their desires, and aims their 

acts. 
At last, they look and live for that alone 
Which lures beneath appearances. Few find 

it. 
The few that do, find that which makes the 

world 
Worth living in, and worth yon circling dome, 
The crown God made it, jeweled with the 

stars. 
Freeman. And you have found it ? 
Cecil. Freeman, yes, I have; 

And know why sometimes earth seems holy 

ground. 
And those that tread it Godlike. Then 

Heaven's face 
Back there behind the veil shines dimly 

through it. 
But wait. I yet will tell you. In our souls, 
Far down within, are depths like sunken seas 
All dark ! — yet only when concealed from light 
And from the face of love they else might 

image. 
And my soul — you should know its depths to 

know 



438 CECIL THE SEER. 

My coming joy; yet need not. You will 
guess it. 
Freeman. Your mood alone can make one 
guess enough 
To offer his congratulations now. 
(Freeman rises. So does Cecil, and they shake 
hands.) 
And some one else here will be glad to do it. 
Exit — Left — Freeman. 
Enter — Left — Milly carrying a dish which she 

places on the table. 
Cecil {reseating himself and talking at first to 
Milly and, later, to himself). 
How kind his welcome ! It is worth some loss 
To know we own some friends. — And Faith, 

too. Faith, — 
She too, he says, will be so glad to see me. 
I always liked her; and I always knew 
The two were lovers, and they knew I knew it. 
This must have been the reason why his note 
Made such a mere brief mention of his mar- 
riage ; 
As if, forsooth, I knew the news already. 
I thought I must have missed one letter from 

him. 
But no ; what Aeed of sending me her name ! — 
Who could she be but Faith ! — This very room 
Seems like her too. No setting so becomes 
A jewel of a woman as a home, — 



CECIL THE SEER. 439 

A loving home like this. Thank God, some 
souls 

Need not to die before they find their mates. 

Exit — Left — MiLLY. 

Enter — Right — Celia. 

What? — Celia here? And I was never told 
it? — (He rises to greet her.) 

Why, Freeman said that I should find a friend. 

I have — the friend to whom I owe my life. 
Celia {shaking hands with Cecil). 

Had it been lost, it would have been for me. 
Cecil. And now when saved, let it be saved for 

you. 
Celia. For me and all who love you. 
Cecil {to Celia.) Ah, who love! 

I would that I could stay forever with you. 
Celia. You would not go away? 
Cecil. What, would you wish me 

To make my home with you? 
Celia. Why, yes. — Why not? 

Cecil. But I must work. 
Celia. Yet people sue — not so? — 

In any place? 
Cecil {taking her hand). Shall I begin it here? 
Celia. Begin and keep on too. 
Cecil. I think I will. 

Celia. It would so please us all ! 
Cecil. And could you think 

That I could feel at home away from you ? 



440 CECIL THE SEER. 

Celia. How kind in you to say that ! — You will 
live 
Right here with me and Freeman? 
Cecil. You and Freeman? 

Celia. Why, certainly! — He wants it, too. 
Cecil. I see. — 

You two together saved my life, of course. 
Celia. Of course we saved it, if it could be 

saved. 
Cecil. And so you live with him? 
Celia. Because of that — 

It was our mutual interest in you. 
Enter — Left — Freeman. 
{Just as he enters, Celia, bowing to Cecil 
and gesturing toward the table, indi- 
cates that she must prepare for the 
meal, and moves toward the Left.) 
Exit — Left — Celia . 
(Cecil seats himself again. Freeman re- 
turns to the closet near the Left, and, 
while carrying on the following con- 
versation, finds there a small bottle , 
which, when presently he leaves the 
room, he takes with him.) 
Cecil. She tells me I must live with you and 

her. 
Freeman. Yes, we had hoped so. 
Cecil {looking at Celia's retreating form.) 

Freeman, this is bliss! 



CECIL THE SEER. 441 

Freeman. Yes, we are very happy. 

Cecil. That we are ! — 

Men do not often wed their own ideals. 
Freeman. I know it. I have thought it 
through; and yet, 
Without that, life can have some brightness 
left. 
Cecil. Without that ? — You mistake my mean- 
ing, Freeman. 
I need not live without that. No, indeed! 
She loves me. Freeman; not a doubt of it. 
Freeman. Who? 
Cecil. Celia. 

Freeman. Celia? 

Cecil. Celia, yes. — Why not? 

Freeman. You mean? — 
Cecil. Oh yes, you think she is too young! 
But, Freeman, love is of eternity, and knows 
No youth, nor age; — is like the air of heaven 
That tosses in its play the dangling fringe 
Athrill with grace about our outward guise, 
And runs its unseen fingers through our 

hair, 
And brushes to a glow our flushing cheeks, 
But has more serious lasting moods than 

these. 
It is the substance of the breath we breathe 
That keeps the blood fresh, and the heart in 
motion ; 



442 CECIL THE SEER. 

And, e'en when these give out, it still is there 
To buoy us up and bear on high the spirit. 
Freeman. Oh, yes! — but CeHa? — 
Cecil. Wait, and let me tell you. 

That evening when that pistol shot was fired 
That almost freed my spirit, Celia thought 
I sank unconscious. So I did but not 
Before heaven let me hear her cry — of me! — 
" The only man I ever loved is dead!" 
Then came my more than dream. I saw her 

spirit, — 
A spirit one with mine; and that is why 
I run no risk. I know that she loves me, 
And I love her ; and we can both thank God 
For cloud and storm and flash that struck me 

down. 
And heaven in life that followed death in 

life.— 
I see you doubt me. Is it past belief? 
Freeman. Why — but — excuse me — I — 
Cecil. You know not what 

Is in a woman's heart! 
(Cecil looks down at his paper as if reading.) 

Enter — Left — Celia. 
Celia {to Cecil, as she places upon the table a 
dish that she brings, and arranges other 
dishes on it) . Now I am coming 
To stay with you awhile. 
Cecil {to Celia) . To be with those 



CECIL THE SEER. 443 

Who really love one, is a new delight. 
You said you loved me, Celia. 
Celia. Why, of course — 

Just as I always have, and always must. 
Exit — Left — Freeman, lifting his hands in a 

bewildered way. 
Cecil {noticing that Freeman had left). Of 
course ! 
Look — Freeman's vanished, Celia. — Have a 

care. 
To love too much may make him envious; 
And chewing on the cud of jealousy 
Is not a pleasant practice for one's friends. 
For though you give them naught to work 

upon. 
So much the more the grinders work away 
And grind themselves the sharper, — a}^ and 

grind 
The words that pass them too — made sharp 

as arrows 
To pierce the soul they hit. 
Celia. No fear of him ! — - 

We both love you. 
Cecil. Ah, I shall punish him! 

When he comes in, — shall send him after Faith. 
Celia. No; you must not do that. 
Cecil. Oh, yes, I shall. 

Celia {taking a seat). 
You would not dare. — 



444 CECIL THE SEER. 

Cecil. Not dare? — Ha, ha, ha, ha! 

Celia. No, no; I beg you not to 

Cecil. Not to, Celia? 

Celia. You must not. 

Cecil. Must not? — And you really mean 

it?— 
Well, if you be in earnest, I will not. 
But, bless me, if I see the reason why. 
Celia. He loves Faith. 
Cecil. Yes; and where would be my joke, 

Unless he loved her? 
Celia. There was deep, deep love, 

I sometimes think it saddens him to-day. 
Cecil. What ? what ? — not happy in his married 

life? 
Celia. Oh, one could not say that — so kind, 

you know. 
Cecil. Yes, yes? — and she? — is she not kind 

to him ? 
Celia. Who?— Faith? 
Cecil. Yes, Faith. 

Celia. He never hears from her. 

Cecil. What? — Are they separated? 
Celia. Separated! 

She went — you had not heard it? — to a 

convent. 
Cecil. She did? — Poor Freeman! — When was 

that? 
Celia. Last year. 



CECIL THE SEER. 445 

Cecil {in a perplexed way) . 

But when was Freeman married? 
Celia. Why, last March. — 

He wrote you all about it. 
Cecil (startled). No; not all, — 

Not half a page. 
Celia (surprised) . Why, twenty pages, friend !— * 
We both wrote twenty; and you never got 
them? 
Cecil. Why, no; you see I had not heard of 
Faith — (hesitatingly) . 
And you now — you are living with him 
here? 
Celia. Yes, living! — Did you think that we 

were boarding? 
Cecil (slowly, and struggling to conceal emotion) 
You know — it seems — why, strange — when — 
he loved Faith. 
Celia. What? — That he married me? — He 
told me all ; ' 
But Faith seems dead. 
Cecil (controlling himself). 

And he is kind, eh, Celia? 
Celia. Yes, very kind. 

Cecil. Forgive me, will you, Celia? 

You see that I have always loved you, Celia, — 
Just as a father loves a child, you know; 
And if my love be anxious for you, Celia, 
Enter — Left — Freeman. 



446 CECIL THE SEER. 

{He is not observed by Cecil or Celia. 
He replaces in the closet the little 
bottle taken from it, when in the room 
the previous time. While doing so, 
he evidently hears the following con- 
versation.) 
You will not think it strange? 
Celia. Nay, not a throb 

In all my heart, but you could rightly know it. 
Cecil. Your heart's wish is fulfilled? 
Celia. Yes, yes, my love 

Is deep and true. No wife could love one 
more. 

Exit — Left — Freeman. 
Enter — Right — Jem . 
Cecil. Then you have two friends, — him and 
me. You stand 
Between us. 
Celia (rising). I must go now. 
Cecil (rising). Yes, my daughter! 

Exit — Left — Celia. 
(Cecil looks toward Jem whose sympathetic 
attitude shows that he understands Cecil's 
sacrifice.) 
So close the clouds of heaven upon my 

dream ! — 
Do not repeat my talk to you this morning. — ■ 
I sometimes think the devil rules this world, 
And wise men rule it with him. — But no, no! — 



CECIL THE SEER. 447 

Oh, what a universe of agencies 
Are centered in one Hfe that may be both 
The God and devil of the soul it loves ! 
[Yet wits were given one to outwit the world. 
If Celia be what I have dreamed she is, 
The world must work its work upon her will 
Without one touch of mine, or hint, or sigh. 
To make her life more tempted or less true. — 
Oh, cursed world, in which forswearing love 
Is our best proof that we would foster it ! 
But wait ! — What moves me ? — Am I but a fool 
Controlled by dreams? — No, no; I had a 

dream ; 
But this, at least, is none, — that each who 

aids 
An angel upward for himself prepares 
Angelic friendship; and if there be spheres 
Where spirit can reveal itself to spirit. 
And sympathy be sovereign, there must be 
One soul supremely loved. I dreamed no 

dream. 
High, knightly chivalry whose love protects, 
Thy knightly honor is the sacred thing 
Of which thy pride is conscious. But — oh 

God!— 
To be just on the threshold of all bliss : 
And fail. — Fail? — No. Let Freeman have 

her now 
A few brief years. — I dream w^ith her forever — ] 



448 CECIL THE SEER. 

But, Jem, you seem to have some message for 
me. 
Jem. Some white folks heah as wants ter speak 

wid yer. 
Cecil {in surprise). With me? — I have no 
friends here. — Bid them enter. 
Enter — Right — as Jem Iwlds open the 
door, Three Gentlemen. They 
wear overcoats and hold their hats in 
their hands. Cecil exchanges hows 
with them, and motions toward the 
chairs. 
And will you sit ? 
First Gentleman. No, thanks. We have no 
time. 
Our party's first convention meets to-morrow. 
The news is ominous. We may have war. 
We came as a committee to request 
To hear from you. 
Cecil. To hear from me? — and why? 

First Gent. You suffer from the wrongs of 
slavery 
That we oppose. 
Cecil. But here I am a stranger. 

First Gent. Good reputation is to good men 
what 
Fine perfume is to flowers. A charm it has 
Which lures the sense that heeds it to a search 
That will not cease till finding its fair source. 



CECIL THE SEER. 449 

Cecil. You do me too much honor. 

First Gent. Honor us; 

And let our people hear you. 
Cecil. If my words 



First Gent. The words of men whose deeds 
have proved them true 
Are also true. 
Cecil. Thanks. If you think them so, 

They may at least command your interest. 
And he whose words can wake the earth to 

thought 
Has heaven's own warrant that he should be 

heard. 
Yes; I will come. 
First Gent. Thanks. 

Second Gent and Third. Thanks. 

{All move toward the Right Entrance. 

Jem who is nearest it opens the door 

there. Cecil and the Gentlemen 

exchange bows.) 

Cecil. We meet to-morrow. 

Exeunt — Right — the Three Gentlemen and 

Jem. 



Scene Second: — An open field or village green. 
Backing in the distance, village houses, and 
beyond them hill scenery. Extending diagonally 
across the Right Rear corner is a cottage fronted 

29 



450 CECIL THE SEER. 

by a porch, the latter being a platform elevated 
about a foot above the rest of the stage. At the 
Left of the stage are trees and a tent, apparently 
one of a soldiers' encampment beyond it. 

Entrances: Right, between trees; Right Rear 
from a door opening from the cottage on to the 
porch; Back Center from behind the cottage; 
Left, Front and Rear, from behind trees, or the 
tent. 

As the curtain rises, Militia and Populace are 
seen grouped at the Left. 
{They sing as follows:) 

The trumpets call to action 

Through all the threatened land 
No more is heard of faction. 
The time has come to band. 
What soul can see 
The state in fear and fail to be 
Beneath the fiag, enrolled with all 
That heed the trumpet's call? 
No patriot is he who can see 
The state in fear and fail to be 
Beneath the flag, enrolled with all 
That heed the trumpet's call. 

The best of men are brothers. 

The worst can be a foe; 
And not for self but others, 

True men to battle go. 
No longer meek, 
Where wrong is cruel, right is weak, 



CECIL THE SEER. 45 1 

Or aught has brought the base to band, — 
They throng to lend a hand. 
No true man is he who can see 
The state in fear, and fail to be 
Beneath the flag, enrolled with all 
That heed the trumpet's call. 

Who, think you, live in story 

That live for self alone? 
Who care to swell his glory 
That cares not for their own? 
In every strife 
That stirs the pulse to nobler life, 
The man that has the thrilling heart, 
He plays the thrilling part. 
No hero is he who can see 
The state in fear, and fail to be 
Beneath the flag, enrolled with all 
That heed the trumpet's call. 

Exeunt — Left — Militia and Populace. 
Enter — Back Center — Cecil, and a Gentlemen. 

Enter — Right — Faith, dressed as a nun. 
Cecil (to Gentleman). 

These clouds of war break like a thunder-clap 
Amid clear skies of summer; but will bring 
Our plant of freedom to a finer fruitage. 
Exit — Left — G entlem an . 
{suddenly noticing Faith.) 
Faith Hy Cher? 
Faith {to Cecil). Yes — on business. 
Cecil. With me? 



452 CECIL THE SEER. 

Faith. Old friends of ours are here — have 
interest 

In land near by us. Being of the South 

They came to deed it so as not to lose it ; 

And stand arrested. People deem them spies. 
Cecil. Who are they ? 
Faith. Why, my mother, Father Hycher, 

Lowe, Blaver, Kraft 

Cecil. His wife too? 

Faith. Yes. 

Cecil. Humph, humph ! 

Faith. Their holdings were not small. The 
time was brief. 

All came here who might need to sign their 
papers. 
Cecil. And what can I do ? 
Faith. Say you know them — you 

And Freeman. 
Cecil. You have seen him — Freeman? 
Faith {hesitating) . No — 

Cecil {kindly). I understand you. 
Faith. It was not his fault : 

I was deceived. 
Cecil. By whom? 

Faith. By Father Hycher. 

Cecil. Yet now you wish to help the Father? 
Faith. Yes. 

Cecil. As I should help the Krafts? — You 
think I should? — 



CECIL THE SEER. 453 

[Faith, you and I have loved supremely, — yet 
Our love has loved another. — Could this be 
Of that form which we walk with in our 

dreams ? 

Faith. Why 

Cecil. Did you ever think that all our dreams 
Are in ourselves; and this form too may be 

there ? 
They say that human brains, ay, all our 

frames 
Are doubled. — If so, why? — For use? — then 

whose ? — 
Who is it twins existence with us here? — 
What if it be our living, better self 
Which under consciousness we vaguely feel 
Dreams while we wake and wakes the while 

we dream, 
Recalls what we forget, incites, and is 
Less form than spirit, but, because a spirit. 
Heaven's representative, our guardian, guide, 
And all that tells of God ? You know all praise 
The men dependent only on themselves. 
Yet why? — Is it so noble to be free 
From love, or wish for love? Or own these 

men 
A subtle consciousness of nobler love 
Which, in the spirit-life, is all in all? 
Know they that earthly forms which seem 

divine 



454 CECIL THE SEER. 

But image that within which is divine? — 
Though you have wed the church, Faith, I 

have not; 
And yet the bonds that bind us may not 

differ.—] 
If so, Faith — yes — your friends shall have my 
help. 
Faith. How kind ! 

Cecil. For you, for me, for all whose paths 

Of honor and of sympathy divide. 
One choice alone remains — to dwell content 
With loneliness, and one's ideal, and God. 
{Both how.) 
Exit — Left — Faith. 
Enter — Right Rear — coming suddenly from the 

cottage on to the porch, Celia. 
Celia {to Cecil). Save, save my husband! 
Cecil. Save from what? 

Celia. From death, 

From certain death. 
Cecil. To march to war is not 

To march to certain death. 
Celia. ^ly throbbing heart 

Would spend its blood in blushes for my shame 
Till it forgot to give my being life, 
If, by a single sigh, I durst keep back 
One soldier from the ranks of this just war. 
Cecil. What mean you then? 
Celia. That he has volunteered 



CECIL THE SEER. 455 

To be a spy, and in the very town 
Where he has lived, is known, and hated too. 
He can but be detected. 
Cecil. You are right. 

I see him coming. 
{pointing . to the Left. — Celia looks at hinty 
inquiringly.) 

You would better leave us. 
Exit — Right Rear — Celia. 
Enter — Left — Freeman, dressed as an officer, 
(to Freeman). 
Your wife says you have volunteered to be 
A spy, where you are sure to meet with 
death. 
Freeman. I may succeed. 
Cecil. You scarce can hope to do so. 

Freeman (with assumed indifference) . 

And what if not? 
Cecil. Then you are not the man 

To trust on such a mission. 
Freeman. Not? — How so? 

Cecil. No man, if wise, will waive from what he 
plans 
The prospect of success. If you attempt it, 
Trust me to thwart you. 
Freeman. Humph ! You seem officious. 
Cecil. One needs to be at times; and now 
your life 
And Celia's happiness are both at stake. 



456 CECIL THE SEER. 

Freeman. Not Celia's happiness. 
Cecil. What do you mean ? 

Freeman. I mean, since men have talked so 
much against 
Our owning blacks, the time is coming fast 
For some to talk against our owning whites. 
Cecil. And what suggested this? 
[Freeman. You know — We both 

Have seen both men and women treat their 

peers — 
In wedlock, yes, but also out of it — 
As if they owned them ; and society 
Approved, enforced their course. Mere selfish- 
ness 
Has been enthroned so long in men's affairs, 
That naught seems worthy of respect to 

some 
Of which it only is not king and guide. 
Cecil. And pray, too, what of that?] 
Freeman. If Celia find 

More joy in your society than mine. 
Then let her find it. Did I marry her 
To limit her delights? 
Cecil. Why, Freeman, friend, 

Look here at me — You are an upright 
man, 
{placing his hand on Freeman's shoulder.) 
And so am I. But, ere I knew you married, 
Was it — with all that she and I had been — 



CECIL THE SEER. 457 

So strange that I should have — those — whims 
of mine ? 
Freeman. She told you that she loved you. 
Cecil. Yes, she did: 

But as a d|,ughter. 

(Freeman looks incredulous.) 
I am not the man 
You should distrust. 
[Freeman. Who knows what men can be, 

Till pierced where tenderest ! It was the fleet 
Achilles could be wounded in the heel; 
And some have heads, and some have hearts 
to hurt. 
Cecil. I say she said she loved me as a daughter. 

I quote her right.] 
Freeman. She said no more than that? 

Cecil. When speaking of her love, she said no 
more. 
She gave no slightest hint that meant not 
that. 
Freeman. Yet you love her? 
Cecil. In the degree I do, 

Her honor I would guard, as, too, mine 

own; 
And guard her love too. She has told me all. 
She loves you as a true and faithful wife. 
So let me save you for her. Be no spy, 
But captain, colonel, general, — who knows 
What fortune may await the tide of war ! 



458 CECIL THE SEER. 

Freeman. And you ? 

Cecil. Am I, think you, a man to play 

A second fiddle to your tune of love — 
With instrument all broke beyond repair, 
Make discord of the music of your life? 
I promise you to leave here. 
Freeman. Leave your home? — 

You have no other. 
Cecil. Some will open for me. 

{pointing toward the tent.) 
There were one here, did my infirmities 
Not keep me from the army. 

{Shouts are heard at the Left.) 
Enter — Left — A guard of Militia headed 
by an Officer, and conducting Bla- 
VER and Miss Primwood — now 
the wife of Blaver — Lowe and 
Madam Lowe, Kraft and Mad- 
am Cecil — now Madam Kraft 
— Father Hycher and Widow 
Hycher, attended by Faith. Popu- 
lace follow. 
Freeman {in evident astonishment). 

Who are they? 
Cecil. I think you know them. 
Freeman {noticing Father Hycher). 

Father — ? — Now will I 
Get even with him. 
Cecil. There is no such thing 



CECIL THE SEER. 459 

As getting even with a low-lived soul, 
Without one's lowering his own self. 

{to the Officer.) And who 
Are these ? 
Officer. All spies. 
Other People. To shoot. 
Another. And all have land 

To confiscate. 
Officer {to Cecil). They tell us that you 

know them. 
Cecil. Why, yes; and Freeman too. — Ah, 
Madam B la ver! 

(Cecil and Freeman shake hands with 
Miss Primwood — 7iow Madam 
Blaver — with Madam Lowe, Wid- 
ow Hycher, Lowe and Blaver, 
hut not with the others. Cecil con- 
tinues to the Officer, gesturing 
toward the ladies, including Madam 
Cecil — now Madam Kraft.) 
Our war is not with ladies, I believe? 
{The Officer apparently agrees with him.) 
Father Hycher. I am a clergyman. 
Cecil Quite true; and we? — 

{looking for assent to Freeman.) 
Freeman. Of course, we have no strife here 

with religion. 
Lowe. I am a Friend. 
Cecil. He is. 



460 CECIL THE SEER. 

Lowe. With me the chief 

Consideration is religion. 
Blaver. And I 

A prohibitionist. Our pleas were all 

Based on religious grounds. 
Officer. And what of that ? 

Freeman (laughing). You fail to catch its 
bearing? — When they take 

Their oath of loyalty, why, they will keep it. 

(The prisoners make startled signs of dissent.) 
Cecil. And this, too, may be said, — that as a rule 

The Friends are on our side; and are not 
fighters. 

So too with prohibitionists. 
Freeman (to Cecil, in a laughing way). 

For once, 

Religion seems to help them in their practice. 
Officer (taking Kraft roughly by the shoulder). 

But here the case is clearly different. 

We know him, and his party. 
Madam Cecil-Kraft (to Cecil). Could I talk 

A moment with you ? 
Cecil. Oh, yes, if it please you. 

(Cecil and Madam Cecil-Kraft, walk to one 

side.) 
Madam C. You know my father died. 
Cecil (nodding toward Kraft). Before you 
married? (Madam C. nods in assent.) 

A happy man! 



CECIL THE SEER. 4^1 

Madam C. He left some propert}^ 

It now is in this land. 
Cecil. In Kraft's name? 

Madam C. Yes. 

{hesitatingly, after pausing a moment.) 

There was an informality 

Cecil. In what? 

Madam C. My marriage — 
Cecil. I should think so! — 

Madam C. Not in that, 

But in the mode of transfer. I would deed 

You half— 
Cecil. No, thank you — neither half nor 

all, 
Madam C. And you would have me lose my 

property ? 
Kraft (coming forward, followed by Freeman) . 

No; surely you will help us? 
Cecil. Surely? — why? 

Kraft. You know I am no spy. 
Cecil. How do I know it? 

Kraft. My character 

Cecil. What character? 

Kraft. And you 

Would have me shot ? 
Cecil {to Freeman). 

Shot at, perhaps? — Not so? — 

By proxy, eh? — And in a better cause 

Than his past deeds deserve? 



462 CECIL THE SEER. 

Freeman. I see. 

{to the Soldiers.) Say, friends, 
We all would save the lands of loyal men. 
All loyal men about us are enlisting. 
If Kraft be loyal, he will do the same. 
( The Soldiers make signs of approval.) 

{to Kraft.) 
What say you? 
Kraft {hesitatingly). 

Had I — a — commission 

Freeman. That 

Would prove unwise the one who gave it you. 
Cecil {to Kraft, piUthig his hand on Freeman's 
shoulder) . 
Places of trust are only for the trusted; 
And high commissions but for men with 
missions. 
Freeman {to Kraft) . What say you — prison or 

private? — Make your choice. 
Kraft {abjectly) . 

Why, if I must 

Freeman. It looks as if you must. 

Enter — Left — hurriedly, Two Gentlemen. 
{Commotion among the Populace near them and 

following them.) 
Populace. Hurrah ! 

Enter — Right Rear — evidently attracted by 
the commotion, Celi A, followed by Jem 
and MiLLY, and stind on the porch. 



CECIL THE SEER. 463 

First Gentleman (to Cecil). They nomi- 
nated you. 
Cecil. For what? 

First Gent. For representative at Washing- 
ton. 
Second Gent, {shaking hands with Cecil). 

And I congratulate the district too 
Cecil. But I? — a stranger? 
First Gent. No, no ; one well known. 

Second Gent. The only home you have now 
must be here; 
For here they brought and nursed 3^ou, when 
so ill. 
First Gent. And when the factions could not 
else agree, 
They all could join on you. 
People. Hurrah! hurrah! 

Second Gent. And nomination here is sure 

election. 
People. Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! A speech! 

a speech ! 
Cecil {ascending the porch, where he stands with 
Celia at his Right) . 
This is no time for words. The world needs 

work ; 
But one whose forced infirmities prevent 
His bearing arms and marching to the front. 
May choose the course that you commend to 
him. 



464 CECIL THE SEER. 

{Cheers from the crowd. Cecil gestures toward 
the Soldiers.) 
But do not think you only move to war; 
Or deem that I stay here to dwell in peace. 
To men whose purposes, like ours, push on 
To work out high designs, all life on earth 
Is girt with warfare, where the light of heaven 
That brings us each new day's enlightenment, 
Contends with darkness, and there is no 

peace. 
Our very bodies are but phantoms formed 
Of that same darkness that we must oppose, 
And we must fight, if nothing else, ourselves. 
Ay, whether we may march our frames to 

greet 
The cannon's mouth, or duty's commoner call, 
Go where death threatens, or long seems to 

tarry, 
One destiny, at last, awaits us all: 
Upon life's little stage the play will close, 
The curtain drop, and leave the actor dead. 
Yet, soldiers, what care you, or what care I? — 
The souls that fight for truth, beyond scenes 

here, 
Find life that does not end in tragedy; 
For all our world is but a theater 
Outside whose walls, where shine the stars of 

heaven, 
The actors with their roles and robes laid by 



CECIL THE SEER. 465 

May all meet smiling in the open air. 

And now — to play our several parts — farewell. 

{bowing to those before him, then turning to Celia 
and taking her hand.) 

(Blast of bugles, as the Soldiers fall into line, 
with Kraft well guarded.) 



Curtain. 



End. 
30 



PUBLICATIONS OF G. P. PUTNAM 'S SONS 

THE AZTEC GOD, AND 
OTHER DRAMAS 

By GEORGE L. RAYMOND 



i6mo, cloth extra, $1.25 



" It is not with the usual feeling of disappointment that one lays down 
this little book. One reads 'The Aztec God ' with pleasure. . . . 
'Cecil the Seer ' is a drama of the occult. In it the author attempts to 
describe the conditions in the spiritual world exactly as they exist accord- 
ing to coinciding testimony of Swedenborg, of the modern Spiritu.Jist, and 
of all supposed to have explored them in trance states. Indirectly, 
perhaps, the whole is a much needed satire upon the social, political, and 
religious conditions of our present materialistic life. . . . In 'Columbus' 
one finds a work which it is difficult to avoid injuring with fulsome 
praise. The character of the great discoverer is portrayed grandly and 
greatly. . . . It is difficult to conceive how anyone who cares for that 
which is best in literature . . . could fail to be strengthened and 
uplifted by this heroic treatment of one of the great stories of the world." 
— iV. Y. Press. 

" One must unreservedly commend the clear, vigorous statement, the 
rhythmic facility, the copious vocabulary, and the unvarying elevated 
tone of the three dramas. . . . The poetic quaUty reveals itself in 
breadth of vision and picturesque imagery. One is, indeed, not seldom 
in peril of forgetting plot and character-action in these dramas, because 
of the glowing imagination." — Home Journal. 

" The time and place make the play an historic study of inteiest, aside 
from Its undoubted high poetic quality and elevation of thought . . 
The metre of the dramas'is Shakespearian, and that master's influence is 
constantly :.pparent. It is needless to say to those who know the author's 
remarkable abilities that the plays are substantial and reflect perfectly 
the author's mind." — Portland Transcript. 

Modern Fishies of Men. i2mo, cloth, gilt top . $1.00 

"This delightful novel is written with charming insight. The 
rare gift of character delineation the author can claim in full. . . . 
Shrewd comments upon life and character add spice to the pages." — 
Nashville Tenyiessean. 

" Deals with love and religion in a small country town, and under 
the facile pen and keen humor of the author, the various situations 
. . . are made the most of . . . true to the life." — Boston Globe. 

"Such a spicy, racy, more-truth-than-fiction work has not been 
placed in our hands for a long time." — Chicago Evening Journal. 

"Essentially humorous, wath an undercurrent of satire . . . also 
subtle character delineation, which will appeal strongly to those 
who have the perceptive faculties highly developed." — San Francisco 
Bulletin. 



PUBLICATIONS OF G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 

A LIFE IN SONG 

By GEORGE L. RAYMOND 



i6mo, cloth extra, $1.25 



*• An age-worn poet, dying amid strangers in a humble village home, 
leaves the record of his life in a pile of manuscript poems. These are 
claimed by a friend and comrade of the poet, but, at the request of the 
cottagers, he reads them over before taking them away. The poet's life 
is divided into seven books or ' notes,' because seven notes seem to make 
up the gamut of life. . . . This is the simple but unique plan, . . . 
which . . . forms but the mere outline of a remarkably fine study of 
the hopes, aspirations, and disappointments of life, . . . an American 
modern life. . . . The author sees poetry, and living poetry, where 
the most of men see prose, . . . The objection, so often brought 
against our young poets, that form outweighs the thought, cannot be 
urged in this instance, for the poems of^ Prof. Raymond are full of keen 
and searching comments upon life. Neither can the objection be urged 
of the lack of the human element. 'A Life in Song' is not only dra- 
matic in tendency, but is singularly realistic and acute. . . . The 
volume will appeal to a large class of readers by reason of its clear, musi' 
cal, flexible verse, its fine thought, and its intense human interest." — 
Boston TraTiscript. 

" Professor Raymond is no dabbler in the problem of the human spirit, 
and no tyro in the art of word painting, as those who know his prose 
works can testify. These pages contain a mine of rich and disciplined 
reflection, and abound in beautiful passages." — Hartford Theological 
Seminary Record. 

" Here are lines which, if printed in letters of gold upon the front of 
every pulpit, and practised by every one behind one, would transform the 
face of the theological world. . . . In short, if you are in search of 
ideas that are unconventional and up-to-date, get ' A Life in Song,' and 
read it." — Unity. 

" Some day Dr. Raymond will be universally recognized as one of the 
leaders in the new thought-movement. . . . He is a poet in the truest 
sense. His ideals are ever of the highest, and his interpretation is of the 
clearest and sweetest. He has richness of genius, intensity of human 
feeling, and the refinement of culture. His lines are alive with action, 
luminous with thought and passion, and melodious with music." — 
Cleveland World. 

The main impulse and incident of the life are furnished by the enlist- 
ment of the hero in the anti-slavery cause. The story of his love is also 
a leading factor, and is beautifully told. The poem displays a mastery 
of poetic rhythm and construction, and, as a whole, is pervaded by the 
imaginative quality which lifts ' a life ' into the region of poetry, — the 
peculiar quality which marks Wordsworth." — Christian Intelligencer. 

" It is a great work, and shows that America has a great poet. . . . 
A century from now this poem will be known and quoted wherever fine 
thought is appreciated, or brave deeds sung." — Western Rural. 



PUBLICATIONS OF G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 

BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS 

By GEORGE L. RAYMOND 



i6mo, cloth extra, $1.25 



" In the construction of the ballad, he has given some notable exam- 
ples of what may be wrought of native material by one who has a tasteful 
ear and practised hand. If he does not come up to the standard of the 
ancient ballad, which is the model, he has done as well as any of the 
younger American authors who have attempted this kind of work, and 
there is true enjoyment in all that he has written. Of his other poems, 
the dramatic poem, ' Haydn,' is finished in form, and has literarj' value, 
as well as literary power. — Boston Globe. 

" The author has achieved a very unusual success, a success to which 
genuine poetic power has not more contributed than wide reading and 
extensive preparation. The ballads overflow, not only with the general, 
but the very particular, truths of history." — Cincinnati Times. 

"It may well find readers in abundance . . . for the sake of the 
many fine passages which it contains, . . . 'Ideals made Real' has 
one point of very high excellence ... we have in the conception of 
the character of Edith the work of a genuinely dramatic poet. ... In 
Edith we have a thoroughly masculine intellect in a thoroughly feminine 
soul, not merely by the author's assertion, but by actual exhibition. 
Every word that Edith speaks, every act that she does, is in accord with 
this conception. . . . It is suflScient, without doubt, to give life to a 
less worthy performance, and it proves beyond doubt that Mr. Raymond 
is the possessor of a poetic faculty which is worthy of the most careful 
and conscientious cultivation." — N. Y . Evening Post. 

"Avery thoughtful study of character . . . great knowledge of 
. . . aims and motives. . . . Such as read this poem will derive 
from it a benefit more lasting than the mere pleasure of the moment." — 
London Spectator. 

"Mr. Raymond is a poet emphatically, and not a scribbler in rhyme.' 
London Literary Churchman. 

" His is no mere utterance of dreams and fancies. His poetry takes 
hold on life ; it enters the arena where its grandest and purest motives 
are discussed, and by the visor and beauty of the language it holds itself 
on a level with the highest themes. . . . Every thoughtful reader . . . 
will wish that the poems had been longer or that there had been more of 
them. It would be possible to quote passage after passage of rare 
beauty." — Utica Herald. 

"... Rhythmical in its flow and deliciously choice in language 
. . . indicating a deep acquaintance with human nature, while there 
is throughout a tone that speaks plainly of a high realization of the divine 
purpose in life . . . Not the least charming characteristic is its rich- 
ness in pen-and-ink pictures marked by rare beauty and presenting irre- 
sistibly that which the poet saw in his mind's eye. . _. . We confidently 
promise that any one taking it up will enjoy the reading throughout, tha/' 
IS, if there is any poetry in him." — Boston Evening Journal. 



P UBLIC ATIONS OF G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 

Books by Professor Raymond 



Dante and Collected Verse. i6mo, cloth, gilt top . $1.25 

"Epigram, philosophy, history — these are the predominant ele- 
ments . . . which masterly construction, pure diction,^ and lofty 
sentiment unite in making a glowing piece of blank verse. " — Chicago 
Herald. , „ ^ 

"The poems will be read with keenest enjoyment by all who 
appreciate literary genius, refined sentiment, and genuine culture. 
The publication is a gem throughout." — New Haven Leader. 

"The poet and the reformer contend in Professor Raymond. 
When the latter has the mastery, we respond to the justice, the high 
ideals, the truth of all he says — and says with point and vigor — but 
when the poet conquers, the imagination soars. . . . The mountain 
poems are the work of one with equally high ideals of life and of 
song. " — Glasgow (Scotland) Herald. 

"Brother Jonathan can not claim many great poets, but we think 
he has 'struck oil,' in Professor Raymond." — Western (England) 
ilorning News. 

"This brilliant composition . . gathers up and concentrates for the 
reader more of the reality of the great Italian than is readily gleaned 
from the author of the Inferno himself." — Oakland Enquirer. 

Pictures in Verse. With 20 illustrations by Maud Stumm. 
Square 8vo, in ornamental cloth covers . • $ -75 

"Little love poems of a light and airy character, describing pretty 
rustic scenes, or domestic interiors. ... As charming for its illustra- 
tions as for its reading matter. " — Detroit Free Press. 

"Simple songs of human e very-day experience . . . with _a 
twinkle of homely humor and a wholesome reflection of domestic 
cheer. We like his optimistic sentiments, and unspoiled spirit of 
boyishness when he strikes the chord of love. It is all very true and 
good. " — The Independent. 

The Mountains about Williamstown. With an introduc- 
tion by AI. AI. Miller, and 35 full-page illustrations 
from original photographs ; oblong shape, cloth, gilt 
edges. Net, postpaid .... $2.00 

"The beauty of these photographs from so many points of vantage 
would of itseit suffice to show the fidelity and affection with which 
Professor Raymond pursued the theme of his admirably constructed 
poems. The' introduction by his pupil, friend, and associate is an ex- 
haustive study. No better or more thorough review could be written 
of the book, or more clearly point out the directness and power of 
Professor Raymond's work. . . . Among his many_ books none 
justifies more brilliantly the correctness and charm of his rhetorical 
instruction, or his facility in exemplifying what he commends." — 
Hartford (Conn.) Courayit. 

Rhythm and Harmony in Poetry and Music. 8° . $1.7$ 

"The reader must be, indeed, a person either of supernatural 
stupidity or of marvellous erudition, who does not discover much 
information in Prof. Raymond's exhaustive and instructive treatise. 
From page to page it is full of suggestion. " — The Academy (London). 



publications of o. p. putnam's sons 
Professor Raymond's Art-Books 



Art in Theory. 8vo, cloth extra. , . . $1.75 

" A well grounded, thoroughly supported, and entirely artistic concep- 
tion of art as a whole, that will lead observers to apply its principles . . . 
and to distrust the charlatanism that imposes an idle and superficial 
mannerism upon the public in place of true beauty and honest work- 
manship." — The Ne7v York Times. 

" His style is good, and his logic sound, and ... of the greatest 
possible service to the student of artistic theories." — Art Journal 
(London). 

The Representative Significance of Form. 

8vo, cloth extra. $2.00 
" Evidently the ripe fruit of years of patient and exhaustive study on 

the part of a man singularly fittedfor his task. It is profound in insight. 

searching in analysis, broad in spirit, and thoroughly modern in methoo 

and sympathy." — The Universalist Leader. 

" An original thinker and writer, the charm of his style and clearness 

of expression make Mr. Raymond's book possible to the general reader, 

though worthy of the study of the student and scholar." — Hartford 

Courant. 

Painting, Sculpture, and Architecture, as Representa- 
tive Arts. With 225 illustrations, 8vo. . $2.50 

" Expression by means of extension or size . . . shape . . . regu- 
larity in outlines . . . the human body . . . posture, gesture, and 
movement . . . are all considered. ... A specially interesting chapter 
is the one on color." — Current Literature. 

" The whole book is the work of a man of exceptional though tfulness, 
who says what he has to say in a remarkably lucid and direct manner,"—' 
The Philadelphia Press. 

The Genesis of Art-Form. Fully illustrated. Svo. $2.25 

" In a spirit at once scientific and that of the true artist, he pierces 
through the manifestations of art to their sources, and shows the relations, 
intimate and essential, between painting, sculpture, poetry, music, and 
architecture. A book that possesses not only singular value, but singular 
charm." — N. Y . Times. 

" A help and a delight. Every aspirant for culture in any of the 
liberal arts, including music and poetry, will find something in this book 
to aid him." — Boston Times. 

Proportion and Harmony of Line and Color in Painting, 
Sculpture, and Architecture. 

Fully illustrated. Svo. $2.50 
" No critical person can afford to ignore so valuable a contribution to 

the art-thought of the day.''— The Art-Interchange (N. Y.). 

'' One does not need to be a scholar to follow this scholar as he teaches 

while seeming to entertain ; for he does both." — Burlington Hawk-Eye. 
" The artist who wishes to penetrate the mysteries of color, the sculptor 

who desires to cultivate his sense of proportion, or the architect whose 

ambition is to reach to a high standard will find the work helpful and 

Vnspiring." — Boston Transcript. 



PUBLICATIONS OF G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 



Books by Professor Raymond 



Poetry as a Representative Art. 8° . . . $1.75 

This book is an attempt, in accordance with modern methods, aided 
by the results of modern investigation, to determine scientifically the 
laws of poetic composition and criticism, by deriving and distinguish- 
ing the methods and meanings of the various factors of poetic form 
and thought from those of the elocution and rhetoric of ordinary 
speech, of which poetry is an artistic development. The principles 
unfolded are illustrated by quotations from the first English poets. 

"I have read it with pleasure, and a sense of instruction on many 
points." — Francis Turner Palgrave, Professor of Poetry, Oxford Uni- 
versity. 

"Dieses ganz vortreffiche Werk." — Englische Studien, Universitat 
Breslau. 

"An acute, interesting, and brilliant piece of work. . . . As a 
whole the essay deserves unqualified praise." — N. Y. Independent. 

The Essentials of -Esthetics. Fully illustrated. 8° $2.50 

A compendium of all the art-volumes, designed as a Text-Book. 

"So lucid in expression and rich in illustraton that every page con- 
tains matter of deep interest even to the general reader." — Boston 
Herald. 

"It can hardly fail to make talent more rational, genius more 
conscious of the principles of art, and the critic and connoisseur 
better equipped for impression, judgment, and appraisement." — 
New York Times. 

The Orator's Manual. i2mo . . . $1.50 

A Practical and Philosophic Treatise on Vocal Culture, Emphasis, 
and Gesture, together with Hints for the Composition of Orations 
and Selections for Declamation and Reading, designed as a Text- 
book for Schools and Colleges, and for Public Speakers and Readers 
who are obliged to Study without an Instructor, fully revised with 
important Additions after the Fifteenth Edition. 

"It is undoubtedly the most complete and thorough treatise on 
oratory for the practical student ever published." — The Educational 
Weekly, Chicago. 

"I consider it the best American book upon technical elocution. 
It has also leanings toward a philosophy of expression that no other 
book written by an American has presented." — Moses True Brown, 
Head of the Boston School of Oratory. 

The Writer (with Post Wheeler, Litt.D.) i2mo $1.00 

A Concise, Complete, and Practical Text-book of Rhetoric, de- 
signed to aid in the Appreciation, as well as Production of All Forms 
of Literature, Explaining, for the first time, the Principles of Written 
Discourse by correlating them to those of Oral Discourse. 

"A book of unusual merit . . . prepared by practical teachers, 
and the end in view is evidently to teach rather than to give in- 
formation." — The Pacific Educational Journal. 

"The pupil will forget he is studying rhetoric, and will come to 
express himself for the pure pleasure he has in this most beautiful 
art." — Indiana School Journal. 



PUBLICATIONS OF G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 



Books by Professor Raymond 



Ethics and Natural Law. 8vo . Net, $2.25. 

A Reconstructive Review of Moral Philosophy, Applied to the 
Rational Art of Living, — a Book that is in effect a Continuation 
and Completion of the Author's well-known Esthetic Works, show- 
ing the Relationship of the Principles underlying Art to the Culture 
of Character. 

"The student of ethics will considerably fortify his knowledge of 
the history of ethical thought by reading the book, especially the 
first twelve chapters. In these Mr. Raymond embodies, with 
copious references, his extensive knowledge of what has been written 
and thought by moral philosophers. On pp. 63-67, for instance, 
will be found in footnotes a kind of classified anthology of all the 
definitions given of conscience by modern writers. The various 
ethical theories holding the field do not, he thinks, recognize as in- 
dispensable the cooperation, in every slightest detail of thought 
and feeling, of the two necessary factors of every desire; and he 
claims that his own doctrine keeps to the purpose he avows in his 
opening chapter, — to draw no inference, and to advance no theory, 
not warranted by known facts as ascertainable in connection with 
the operations of natural law. . . . Chapters XIII to XXIII 
deal acutely and comprehensively with the various sides of American 
life." — London (England) Times. 

In an article entitled A Desirable Acquaintance, Prof. A. S. Hohart, 
D.D. of Crozer Theological Seminary, after mentioning his twenty 
years' experience in teaching Ethics, says, "I fi(nd this book the only 
one that has come within the range of my reading which has, for the 
basis of its system, what I have found to be satisfactory. The 
writer assumes that there is in the nature of things a law of ethical 
conduct as continuous and self-evincing as is the law of physical 
health. . . . The study of psychology has opened the mind to 
inspection as we open the back of a watch-case and see the wheels 
go round; and this study lays its crown of victorious explorations at 
the feet of ethics. . . . His view is that conscience is the sense 
of conflict between bodily and mental desires. . . . therefore not 
a guide; it is only a sense of lostness in the woods, that wants a 
guide. Good sense and good religion are the guides to be consulted. 
By many illustrations and very clear reasoning he verifies his view. 
Then, ... he takes up the task unusual in such books — of show- 
ing how the leading moral qualities can and ought to be cultivated. 
In view of my own careful reading of the book I venture to call 
attention to it as a most fertile source of instruction and suggestion 
for ethical teaching. — The Baptist. 

"The book is clear and comprehensive. His theory in regard to 
conflict is reasonable, and the principles deduced from it have 
philosophic foundation." — Boston Transcript. 

" Professor Raymond extracts a fundamental principle that largely 
reconciles existing ethical theories . . . makes distinctions that 
have vitality, and will repay the necessary study and application." — 
Scientific American. 



publications of g. p. putnam's sons 
Books by Professor Raymond 



A Poet's Cabinet and An Art Philosopher's Cabinet. 

Two books containing quotations, the one from the poems, and 
the other from the aesthetic works of George Lansing Raymond, 
selected by Marion Mills Miller, Litt.D., editor of The Classics, 
Greek, and Latin. Each book 8vo. cloth-bound, gilt top. $2.00 

" Dr. Raymond is one of the most just and pregnant critics, as 
well as one of the most genuine poets, that America has produced. 
. His verse generally, and his prose frequently, is a solid pack 
of epigrams: and hundreds of the epigrams are vigorous, fresh, 
telling, worth collecting and cataloguing. . . . Probably from no 
other American but Emerson could a collection at all comparable be 
made. Many of the phrases are profound paradox. . . . Others 
are as hard-headed as La Rochefoucauld. . . . Some are plain 
common sense, set in an audacious figure, or a vigorous turn of 
phrase. . . . But few or none of them are trivial. ... As an 
aesthetic critic, Professor Raymond is, by training and temperament, 
remarkably versatile and catholic. He is almost or quite equally 
interested in architecture, painting, sculpture, music, poetry. . . . 
Each is as definitely placed in his system as the several instruments 
in a great orchestra. ... If Dr. Raymond had been born in 
France, England, or Germany, he would, no doubt, have enjoyed 
a wider vogue. But it is just as well that he was none of these; 
for the, as yet, aesthetically immature New World has sore need of 
him." — Revue Internationale, Paris. 

"We risk little in foretelling a day when all considerable libraries, 
private as well as public, will be deemed quite incomplete if lacking 
these twin volumes. Years after the thinker has paid the debt to 
nature due, his thoughts will rouse action and emotion in the hearts 
and minds of generations now unborn." — Worcester (Mass.) Gazette. 

"This Poet's Cabinet is the best thing of its class — that confined 
to the works of one author — upon which our eyes have fallen, either 
by chance or purpose. We can't help wishing that we had a whole 
book-shelf of such volumes in our own private library." — Columbus, 
(O.) Journal. 

"The number and variety of the subjects are almost overwhelm- 
ing, and the searcher for advanced or new thought as expressed by 
this particular philosopher has no difficulty in coming almost im- 
mediately upon something that may strike his fancy or aid him in 
his perplexities. To the student of poetry and the higher forms of 
literature . . . the volume will be of distinct aid." — Utica {^.Y.) 
Observer. . , _, 

"Dr. Miller's task in selecting representative extracts from Pro- 
fessor Raymond's works has not been a light one, for there has been 
no chaff among the wheat, and there was an ever present temptation 
to add bulk to the book through freedom in compilation. He 
thought best, however, to eliminate all but the features which 
revealed the rare rich soul and personality of the poet, and each 
quotation is a nQxa."— Albany (N. Y.) Ti^nes-V nion. 

"To study the works of any one man so that we are completely 
familiar with his ideas upon all important subjects — if the man have 
within him any element of greatness — is a task which is likely to 
repay the student's work. . . . This fact makes the unique 
quality of the present volume . . . quotations which deal with 
practically every subject to be found in more general anthologies." 
Boston (Mass.) Advertiser. 



PUBLICATIONS OF FUNK & WAGNALLS CO. 

Books by Professor Raymond 



The Psychology of Inspiration. 8vo, cloth. (New 
Revised Edition). Net, $2.00; by mail, $2.14 

The book founds its conclusions on a study of the action of the 
human mind when obtaining and expressing truth, as this action 
has been revealed through the most recent investigations of phy- 
siological, psychological, and psychic research; and the freshness 
and originality of the presentation is acknowledged and commended 
Vjy such authorities as Dr. J. Mark Baldwin, Professor of Psychology 
in Johns Hopkins University, who says that its psychological posi- 
tion is "new and valuable"; Dr. W. T. Harris, late United States 
Commissioner of Education and the foremost metaphysician in the 
country, who says it is sure "to prove helpful to many who find 
themselves on the border line between the Christian and the non- 
Christian beliefs"; and Dr. Edward Everett Hale, who says that 
"no one has approached the subject from this point of view." 

The first and, perhaps, the most important achievement of the 
book is to show that the fact of inspiration can be demonstrated 
scientifically; in other words, that the inner subconscious mind can 
be influenced irrespective of influences exerted through the eyes 
and the ears, i. e., by what one sees or hears. In connection with 
this fact it is also shown that, when the mind is thus inwardly or 
inspirationally influenced, as, for example, in hypnotism, the in- 
fluence is suggestive and not dictatorial. Not only so, but such faith 
as it is natural and right that a rational being should exercise can be 
stimulated and developed in only the degree in which the text of a 
sacred book is characterized by the very vagueness and variety of 
meaning and statement which the higher criticism of the Bible has 
brought to light. The book traces these to the operation and re- 
quirements of the human mind through which inspiration is received 
and to which it is imparted. Whatever inspires must appear to be, 
in some way, beyond the grasp of him who communicates it, and 
can make him who hears it think and train him to think, in the degree 
only in which it is not comprehensive or complete; but merely, like 
everything else in nature, illustrative of that portion of truth which 
the mind needs to be made to find out for itself. 

The sane, fair, kindly attitude taken gives of itself a profitable 
lesson. The author proves conclusively that his mind — and if his, 
why not another's? — can be at one and the same time sound, sani- 
tary, scientific, and essentially religious." — The Examiner , Chicago. 

"The author writes with logic and a 'sweet reasonableness' that 
will doubtless convince many halting minds. It is an inspiring 
book." — Philadelphia Inquirer. 

"It is, we think, difficult to overestimate the value of this volume 
at the present critical pass in the history of Christianity." — The 
Arena, Boston. 

" The author has taken up a task calling for heroic effort, and has 
given us a volume worthy of careful study. . . . The conclusion 
is certainly very reasonable." — Christian Intelligencer, New York. 

"Interesting, suggestive, helpful." — Boston Congregationalist. 



PUBLICATIONS OF FUNK & WAGNALLS CO. 

Books by Professor Raymond 



Fundamentals in Education, Art, and Civics : Essays and 
Addresses. 8vo, cloth. Net, $1.40; by mail, $1.53 

"Of fascinating interest to cultured readers, to the student, the 
teacher, the poet, the artist, the musician, in a word to all lovers of 
sweetness and light. The author has a lucid and vigorous style, 
and is often strikingly original. What impresses one is the per- 
sonality of a profound thinker and a consummate teacher behind 
every paragraph." — Dundee Courier, Scotland. 

"The articles cover a wide field and manifest a uniformly high 
culture in every field covered. It is striking how this great educator 
seems to have anticipated the educational tendencies of our times 
some decades before they imprest the rest of us. He has been a 
pathfinder for many younger men, and still points the way to higher 
heights. The book is thoroughly up-to-date." — Service, Philadel- 
phia. 

"Clear, informing, and delightfully readable. Whether the sub- 
ject is art and morals, technique in expression, or character in a 
republic, each page will be found interesting and the treatment 
scholarly, but simple, sane, and satisfactory . . . the story of 
the Chicago fire is impressingly vivid." — Chicago Standard. 

"He is a philosopher, whose encouraging idealism is well grounded 
in scientific study, and who illuminates points of psychology and 
ethics as well as of art when they come up in the course of the dis- 
cussion." — r/ze 5co/5man, Edinburgh, Scotland. 

"Agreeably popularizes much that is fundamental in theories of 
life and thought. The American people owe much of their progress, 
their optimism, and we may say their happiness to the absorption 
of just such ideals as Professor Raymond stands for." — Minneapolis 
Book Review Digest. 

Suggestions for the Spiritual Life — College Chapel Talks. 

8vo, cloth . . Net, $1.50; by mail, $1.63 

"Sermons of more than usual worth, full of thought of the right 
kind, fresh, strong, direct, manly. . . . Not one seems to strain 
to get a young man's attention by mere popular allusions to a student 
environment. They are spiritual, scriptural, of straight ethical 
import, meeting difficulties, confirming cravings, amplifying tangled 
processes of reasoning, and not forgetting the emotions." — Hartford 
Theological Seminary Record (Congregationalist). 

"The clergyman who desires to reach young men especially, and 
the teacher of men's Bible Classes may use this collection of addresses 
to great advantage. . . . The subjects are those of every man's 
experience in character building . . . such a widespread handling 
of God's word would have splendid results in the production of men." 
— The Living Church (Episcopalian). 

"Great themes, adequately considered. . . . Surely the young 
men who listened to these sermons must have been stirred and 
helped by them as we have been stirred and helped as we read them." 
— Northfield (Mass.) Record of Christian Work (Evangelical). _ 

"They cover a wide range. They are thoughtful, original, literary, 
concise, condensed, pithy. They deal with subjects in which the 
young will be interested." — Western Christian Advocate (Methodist). 



